


Growing Pains

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-02
Updated: 2007-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Tucker and Reed meet 12 years before Enterprise's launch.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This was written for Surya as part of the 2007 Enterprise ficathon.  
Surya asked for - Tucker/Reed first time. Pre-Starfleet, when Trip is in college, he meets and falls in love with a young exchange student from England. What happens? Do they stay in touch, or part, only to meet again in Starfleet training, or on 'Enterprise'? The answers are up to you. Include smut, NC-17 preferred, and a happy ending, eventually.  


* * *

2139/40 â€“ San Francisco

 

'Trip! Hold on there.'

Charles Tucker, Trip to his friends, turned towards the caller, walking slowly   
backwards rather than stopping as requested.

'No,' he said.

'Hey, Trip, buddy. No? No, what?' Tucker's friend Ed Parker jogged up to him,   
stopping with his hands outspread, and radiating an air of injured innocence.

'No, whatever you're going to ask me to do.' Tucker grinned and adjusted the bag on   
his shoulder, his other hand automatically moving to push back the hair falling over his eyes   
even though, in accordance with his new employers' guidelines, it was no longer long enough   
to do so.

'I'm cut to the quick,' Parker declaimed theatrically.

Tucker laughed and started walking again. 'So what is it then?'

Parker laughed too, keeping pace with Tucker. 'You know I've got stuck with   
showing this Brit around?'

They were both students at the San Francisco campus of California Institute of   
Technology, Parker studying chemical engineering and Tucker warp theory.

'Cultural orientation. Yeah. It's only a couple of weeks isn't it?'

'It is. But two weeks come with a weekend in between. And Saturday night Lindy   
and me were kinda hoping to do a little 'cultural orientation' of our own, if you know what I   
mean.'

'Bring him along; show him how Americans do it,' Tucker suggested.

'Kinky. But somehow I don't think little Malcolm would approve.'

'Little Malcolm?' At over two metres, Parker was nearly a head taller than Tucker,   
and his friend was used to good-natured ribbing about his own alleged lack of stature. But   
the jibe at the British student's expense seemed more pointed.

Parker shrugged noncommittally. 'He's just soâ€¦British. I guess it's starting to get to   
me.'

'And you expect me to take this bundle of fun off of your hands Saturday night?'

'He's not so bad. Justâ€¦'

'British?'

'Quiet, serious, straight-laced, pole up his ass.'

'You're not exactly selling him to me,' Tucker pointed out. 'Maybe he's shy.'

'I guess.' Parker sounded unconvinced. 'So will you do it?'

He turned what was undoubtedly meant to be a winning smile on Tucker and   
fluttered his eyelashes, making his friend snort with laughter again.

'Yeah, sure. Just let me know where and when.'

'Great! I knew you wouldn't let me down, ol' buddy.' He patted Tucker on the head,   
then ran off back the way they'd come, not waiting to see Tucker's rolled eyes and mock   
exasperation.

 

Half seven Saturday evening Tucker strolled up to the small outdoor seating area in   
front of the coffee shop on Parnassus Heights. He wasn't best pleased at having to travel to   
the UCSF campus - several miles from the Caltech campus where he worked and even   
further from his apartment - but it was where Parker's girlfriend Lindy was based and the   
man had insisted. And irritated as he was, Tucker had to admit it was a lovely location.   
Perched high above Golden Gate Park and surrounded by woodland, the plaza with the   
coffee shop was more like a holiday resort than a student hang-out. Down in the city the fall   
day had been blisteringly hot, but up here there was a welcome breeze and the heady tang of   
the eucalyptus in the air.

He spotted Parker perched at one of the tables set up outside the cafe chatting to a   
group of women; one of them Lindy, the girl he was taking out that evening. Parker saw him,   
made his excuses to the women and came over to Tucker.

'Hi,' he said, throwing an arm over Tucker's shoulder and guiding him towards the   
shop door. 'Lindy says your boy's inside. Come on, I'll introduce you.'

'He does know you're dumping him?' Tucker queried.

'Yeah, yeah, no problem. And you're in luck; he hasn't got his daddy with him   
tonight.'

'What!' Tucker stopped abruptly, bringing Parker to a halt too.

'Only joking,' his friend assured him with a grin. 'His dad was here last week, helping   
Malcolm settle in he said. But he never actually came out with us.' 

'I don't care what I promised, I'm not taking your Brit out with his papa,' Tucker said.

'Don't worry, he was set to go home this morning - I think. Malcolm's all on his   
lonesome.'

'When Lindy saw him.' 

'Relax. If daddy Reed was here, we'd know about it. Trust me.'

'How come I don't find that reassuring?' 

Parker just laughed and Tucker allowed himself to be steered towards the door again.

The coffee shop was busy and there was a buzz of conversation. Parker halted just   
inside the door and looked around, searching for his quarry. 

'Ed, hi. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me.'

The voice was quiet, with a distinctive British accent that Tucker liked the sound of,   
but the appearance of the speaker was not what he'd been expecting, and judging from his   
friend's reaction, it wasn't what Parker had been expecting either. 

Tucker could see where 'little Malcolm' came from: the young man who'd spoken was   
about half a head shorter than Tucker himself, and therefore considerably shorter than Parker.   
He was also slightly built, with narrow hips and a sharply angled face. The angled face was   
currently framed by spiky dyed blond hair, and the narrow hips clad in figure-hugging faded   
denim. Only the white t-shirt let the image down: the young man didn't have the upper-body   
musculature to carry off the skin tight look. And there was something about his body   
language, a sort of uncertain bravado, that made Tucker think, not so much 'Rebel Without a   
Cause', more 'Rebel Without a Clue'.

'Malcolm,' Parker managed. 'Didn't recognise you there for a minute. Bit of a   
change.' 

An understatement, Tucker thought, if Parker's description of the Brit had been   
anything like accurate.

The young man laughed, a little self-consciously. 'New country, new look, you know.'

'You can say that again. What did your dad say when he saw the hair?'

'I'm guessing Malcolm's dad had left before the transformation.' Tucker tried to keep   
the amusement out of his voice, the sharp, suspicious glance Reed threw him suggesting he   
hadn't fully succeeded. 'Hi. I'm Trip Tucker.' He held out a hand. 'I'm afraid Ed has landed   
you with me tonight. Hope you don't mind.'

There was an infinitesimal pause while the Brit took stock of the man in front of him,   
then he grasped Tucker's outstretched hand, and said: 'Malcolm Reed. And I rather think   
you're the one who has been landed with me. Sorry.'

The soft voice and self-deprecating grimace were at odds with the image, giving   
Tucker a glimpse of a younger vulnerability before it was buried under brash self-confidence   
again.

'Great. I'll leave you to get to know each other then. See you Monday, Malcolm.'   
Parker clapped the Brit lightly on the shoulder, then backed towards the door, shaking his   
head and pulling faces at Tucker behind Reed's back.

Tucker was amused in spite of himself. As he turned his attention back to the young   
man at his side he realised it must have shown; Reed was eyeing him with suspicion again.

'Sorry,' Tucker apologised, 'just something Ed...' He left the sentence hanging. 'So,   
you want to get a drink here, or head back into town?'

'If by drink, you mean something alcoholic, which I hope you do, then town it is,'   
Reed said. 'They don't run to anything stronger than what passes for cider here.'

Tucker nodded and glanced at his watch. 'We should head for the shuttle then.   
There'll be one leaving shortly.'

As they strolled the short distance Tucker covertly studied the youngster at his side,   
slightly disturbed to realise that that was how he found himself thinking of Reed - youngster.   
Not wanting to cause offence he tried to think of a way to broach the subject tactfully.   
Deciding there wasn't one, he just came out with it.

'How old are you, Malcolm?' 

There was that suspicious look again. 

'Much the same age as you, I should think.'

Tucker said nothing, just tipped his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.

'I'm eighteen,' Reed said defensively. Adding a little ruefully, 'Next month.'

'So not quite twenty-two then.' Tucker hoped his grin took the sting from his words.   
'Eighteen the age you can legally drink in Britain?' He acknowledged Reed's nod with one of   
his own. 'Situation's a bit different here. Restaurants and bars it's eighteen, but nightclubs it's   
twenty-one. So I guess we'll be sticking to the bars.'

'Ed didn't think it was a problem.'

'Ed hasn't got an employer who'd get uppity if he got into trouble with the law.' 

'Employer? I thought you were a student.'

The shuttle arrived and they found two seats together near the back. Tucker slid in by   
the window. Reed settled alongside looking at him expectantly.

'Sponsored student,' Tucker clarified. 'And I'm not keen to do anything to upset my   
sponsors.'

'That's a shame. I'm quite looking forward to upsetting mine.'

'Huh?'

'Not how it usually works I know, but I haveâ€¦issues with them.'

''Them' being?'

'The Defence Technical Undergraduate Scheme or more particularly, the Royal Navy.'

'What are you studying?' 

Tucker knew he was in the engineering faculty because he'd been assigned to Parker,   
but he'd just assumed Reed was also doing chemical engineering. Now he wasn't so sure.

'Engineering, specialising in weapons.'

'This is our stop.'

On the sidewalk Tucker paused to get his bearings, before saying: 'This way. You   
don't like engineering, or is it the weapons?'

'On the contrary, I'm very fond of engineering, and I love weapons. I am, in fact, a   
bit of a prodigy when it comes to weapons. That's why I'm here.' The self-deprecating   
insecurity surfaced again briefly, and then Reed smiled sardonically. 'It's the Royal Navy I'm   
not keen on.'

'But if they're paying for your education...' 

Tucker put his confusion aside momentarily as they entered the bar he'd chosen, got   
drinks and found a table. Settled, he returned to the topic.

'Why'd you join then? You do have to join to be sponsored, right?'

'Oh yes. Signed up at sixteen and set on my way to become an Incorporated   
Engineer, just like my father and his uncle before him.' He took a long pull at his beer,   
making a show of shivering as the cold liquid went down. 'Give me a warm Guinness any   
day.'

Tucker was pretty sure Reed was trying to change the subject. The polite thing would   
be to let him and move onto a more neutral topic, but Tucker was nothing if not persistent,   
and he hated an unanswered question or unsolved puzzle. It made him a good engineer, but   
sometimes an uncomfortable companion - as he'd been told more than once. 

'We'll make the next stop an Irish bar,' he grinned. 'Your dad wanted you to join up?'

'Mum, actually. My father too of course, but it's Mum who's really keen. "The Reed's   
have been navy men for generations."' He said in an affected voice that Tucker took to be an   
impression of his mother. 'Not true, as it happens, but why let the truth get in the way of   
ambition?' 

His tone was bitter and he looked distinctly unhappy and Tucker was regretting   
pursuing the subject. As he fished around for something to say to lighten the mood Reed   
stepped in.

'Who are the sponsors you're so keen not to upset?'

'Starfleet,' Tucker answered self-conscious himself now. Starfleet was a   
comparatively young organisation, certainly the baby of the services, and a source of   
amusement to those of his friends with more lucrative commercial sponsorships. Having been   
prepared to suffer more of the same ribbing from Reed, with all the history and pomp of the   
Royal Navy behind him, however much he professed to dislike them, he was pleasantly   
surprised when Reed seemed to perk up at the name.

'Starfleet? They're the reason I'm here. State of the art weaponry,' he explained at   
Tucker's questioning look. Maybe we'll get to work together.'

'I don't think so. Warp theory's my subject, I know next to nothing about weapons.   
But I guess we'll be on the same campus.'

Reed nodded, and let the subject drop.

'Ed's been showing me around a bit; the campus of course, a couple of clubs,' this last   
was said with an apologetic shrug. 'We hit a few bars one night, not this one though. I like   
this place.' He gazed around, taking in the long mahogany bar with its polished brass foot-rail   
and gleaming patterned over- mirror.

'Yeah,' Tucker agreed. 'It's sort of old fashioned, but I like it. Not many students   
come here.'

'And that's why you like it?'

Tucker laughed. 'In part, yes. The real student hang-outs can get very...lively.'

'And being of advanced years, you prefer somewhere quieter.' 

Reed grinned at him, and Tucker found himself grinning back.

'You got it,' he said.

 

The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly. Tucker fulfilled his promise and took   
Reed to an Irish bar. The Brit rolled his eyes at the clichÃ©d Irishness of it, from the shamrock-  
garlanded sign proclaiming it to be O'Malley's Pub, to the rainbow and leprechaun lights   
strung over the bar, complete with 'pot of gold' at one end. But he watched with appreciation   
the drawn-out ceremony of the pouring of his Guinness and, taking a drink, pronounced it to   
be as good as any he'd tasted in Ireland. Privately, Tucker wondered just how many, if any,   
real Irish Guinness the young man had drunk, but said nothing.

They hit another couple of bars, grabbing hot dogs from a street vendor en route   
between them. 

Conversation flowed easily, ranging from the differences between their two countries,   
to details about their respective courses; touching on their home and upbringing, and their   
hopes for the future - both topics Reed largely skirted over.

Reed was good company, Tucker decided, especially when he relaxed enough to   
forget the image he was trying to portray and just be himself; with the brashness gone he had   
a quiet confidence when talking about something he knew and a shyness when on unfamiliar   
ground that Tucker found endearing. 

They parted not far from the campus, around the corner from Reed's digs.

Tucker said, 'I'll look out for you on campus, maybe we could get lunch one day or   
something.'

'Good. I'd like that.' 

Reed's grin lit up his whole face, and Tucker realised that he'd like it too.

 

* * * 

 

For the next day or so Tucker found himself thinking about Reed at odd moments:   
he'd catch sight of a guy with short blond hair, or a text he was studying would have a note   
about armaments, and his mind would drift to the young Englishman.

He shrugged it off for three days before finally giving in and engineering a meeting.   
He needed to see Reed again to work out if this was just the memory of a pleasant evening or   
the start of an infatuation. 

Tucker swung both ways sexually. To his way of thinking females wanted   
relationships and commitment, whereas guys were more up for casual sex, the occasional   
buddy fuck. Since his last girlfriend had dropped him, saying she couldn't compete with his   
work, he'd decided school wasn't the place for relationships, and had kept to guys. 

Casual flings, of course, weren't normally encumbered by any great depth of feeling   
for the other person: you didn't spend three days mooning over someone you'd hooked up   
with for casual sex. Which was just as well, he told himself, because no way was that   
something this young man would be interested in.

So he made it his business to find out where on campus Reed worked and 'happened'   
to be passing the weapons lab as Reed left.

They ate lunch at the cafeteria; Tucker making small talk while trying to gauge how   
pleased Reed was to see him again.

The question was answered when Reed asked, 'I was wondering if you fancied going   
out for a drink on Friday? If you haven't got plans, or anything.'

'Nope, no plans,' Tucker said, immediately ditching his plan to go to the Southern   
Belle. 'And I'd like that, yes. You want to get dinner first?' As Reed glanced uncertainly   
around the cafeteria, Tucker added, 'There's a new Chinese place people say is good, or I   
know a Mexican if you prefer.'

'Chinese will be fine,' Reed smiled. 'It's a while since I had a good Chinese meal.'

 

That Friday was the first of many such evenings out together. Ed Parker ribbed   
Tucker mercilessly, but Tucker just laughed it off, shaking his head and insisting that they   
weren't dating, just friends out drinking together. And it was easy to say, because it was true.   
No matter how much Tucker would have liked their nights out together to be dates he knew   
Reed didn't see them that way. Tucker might be falling for Reed - heck, scratch might,   
definitely was, his inner voice insisted - but he knew his feelings weren't returned. To Reed   
they were just drinking buddies, and Tucker decided he'd rather settle for that than risk doing   
anything to scare the young man away.

 

That's how things stayed for the rest of the fall semester. They got together once or   
twice a week, sometimes they just happened to be drinking in the same bar, but often they   
arranged to meet up. 

One day at the beginning of September Reed called to say he felt like going out for a   
meal, and would Tucker like to join him, his treat? They went to Harry's Hamburger Hutch, a   
particular favourite of Reed's. The place was busy, but they'd been lucky to spot a party   
leaving and had grabbed their booth. Tucker chose a cheeseburger while Reed opted for a   
Hawaiian, with extra pineapple. The food and their second beers had just arrived and Tucker   
was busy rearranging the contents of his bun when he noticed Reed's eyes widen in   
astonishment at something or someone over Tucker's shoulder.

Before he could turn to check what Reed was looking at a familiar silky voice spoke,   
and Tucker's heart sank.

'Who's the twink?'

The words were accompanied by a hand on his shoulder, too near his neck for comfort   
and Tucker flinched away from the unwanted touch as the owner of the hand slid onto the   
bench besides him. The man made a show of looking Reed over whilst rearranging the ruffles   
on the front of his silver button-down shirt.

'Well, I can see why you've not been to the club lately,' he purred, flicking back his   
overlong cuffs to expose the gold bangles on his wrists. 'I don't blame you wanting to keep   
this one to yourself.'

'Clear off, Pierce,' Tucker snapped, watching Reed watching the interchange.

'Temper, temper,' the man said. He held a hand out to Reed who took it reflexively.   
'Hello. I'm Carlton. Don't mind Trippy, he doesn't like competition,' he said archly.

Reed extracted his hand, looking as if he'd like to wipe it on his pants but was too   
polite to do so. He remained silent.

'I said, clear off.' Tucker punctuated his words with an elbow in the ribs, almost   
knocking the man off the bench.

'Don't get you knickers in a twist, lover. I can take a hint.' He got to his feet before   
delivering his parting shot. 'When you get tired of him, you will bring him to the Belle for us   
plebs to play with, won't you?'

As Pierce minced away, Tucker was amused to see Reed surreptitiously wipe his hand   
on his shirt. 

Realising he'd been seen, Reed grinned.

'Sorry if he's a friend of yours.'

'He isn't.' Tucker was emphatic. 

'He's kind of creepy,' Reed admitted. 'Is he gay?'

Reed was tentative, as if 'gay' was some alien, exotic concept he'd heard rumours of   
but never encountered before. Could he really be that innocent, Tucker wondered. He'd   
been to a British public school, and he was in the Royal Navy; it was common knowledge   
that both institutions were rife with homosexuality. And even if, as was usually the case,   
common knowledge was wrong, it would be incredible if he had never met a homosexual.   
But from what little the Brit had said, his family were weird, perhaps this was just another   
example of that weirdness. Or maybe he'd just never encountered a flaming queen before.

'Bent as a nine dollar bill,' Tucker confirmed.

'And...he implied... Are you gay?'

Tucker waggled his hand to show his ambivalence. 

'You and he...have you...done it?'

'No way!'

Reed looked relieved.

'What's a twink?'

Tucker shrugged, reluctant to explain. 'Nothing, forget it. You're right: he's a creep.'

'The Belle, is that one of the clubs you won't take me to?' At Tucker's nod, he added,   
'A gay club?'

'Not exclusively, no.' It was a prevarication; Friday nights, when he usually went,   
were Gay Night, but for some reason he didn't want to tell Reed that.

'But you see that man, Carlton, there.'

'He goes there. I go there sometimes, for a beer, to meet up with friends. It's just a   
club, Malcolm, nothing special.'

Reed turned his attention back to his food, apparently happy to let the subject drop,   
but Tucker had an uneasy feeling that he was filing information away for possible future use.

 

In December, when his mom started organising the family for the holiday get-  
together, he wondered if Reed would think it odd if he invited him to join the Tucker clan.   
But before he picked up the courage to ask, Reed announced he was expected to join his   
parents and sister in Malaysia. He didn't sound too keen on the idea, but it clearly wasn't   
something he felt he could get out of.

Tucker said nothing, but it struck him that this would have been an idea opportunity   
for Reed to show a little rebellious spirit; something he talked about periodically, usually   
when the Royal Navy was making its presence felt. 

Reed had to report monthly to his superiors, usually via a communications link with   
the UK, but occasionally in person to an officer in the local consular office. For these visits   
he had to wear his navy uniform, which he hated. Tucker had met up with him once on his   
return, watching with thinly veiled amusement as Reed stormed around his room, throwing   
parts of the hated uniform as far as he could in the small space and ranting about pompous   
authority in general and the Royal Navy in particular. Eventually he had calmed down   
enough to laugh at himself, and to hang the uniform neatly in his closet.

Reed's determination to rebel, against his father and the navy, worried Tucker; he   
could see nothing good coming from it. To be fair to Reed, he didn't allow it to interfere   
with his studies. The discreet enquiries Tucker had made told him Reed had a flair for   
armaments, and that he worked hard. The problem as Tucker saw it was that he also played   
hard, and not always sensibly. So far he hadn't heard that Reed had done anything too   
alarming, certainly nothing illegal, but there was a wildness in his manner sometimes that   
Tucker found disturbing. 

 

Back in San Francisco in January they carried on much as before, meeting up a couple   
of nights a week to go drinking together and sometimes a meal. Tucker discovered that Reed   
was a runner - and wondered how he'd not known before - and they started going for a long   
run together Saturday mornings.

In March Tucker tentatively tried to move things to another level. He was spending a   
couple of days in Florida with a group of friends, diving Ginnie Springs north of Orlando,   
and he invited Reed to join them. He was disappointed when the young man declined, and a   
bit hurt at the reason: it seemed a thin excuse for someone who was, however reluctantly, a   
navy man to say he wasn't keen on water. Because of that, when Reed asked if he wanted to   
meet up on the Friday evening he brushed him off, saying he wasn't sure when he'd get back,   
and he'd be in touch if he couldn't make their Saturday run.

The few days away smoothed over Tucker's hurt feelings. Diving was his main   
hobby, more than that; it was his passion - diving and boats. He'd once told Reed that all his   
engineering expertise came from working on boats. It was a self-deprecatory line he'd   
developed to help put people - mainly women - at ease and to deflect accusations of big-  
headedness. It wasn't false modesty. He knew he was exceptionally talented; he also knew   
that people didn't want to be reminded just how talented. But Reed had just laughed and   
said that he wouldn't want to travel on a boat with a warp engine. He was the only person   
Tucker could remember who hadn't taken the statement at face value, and it gave him a good   
feeling. 

The weather had been kind to them, making camping a pleasure. They'd dived the   
Basin and Ballroom, and the next day the Three Devils â€“ familiar territory to Tucker, but the   
clear water ensured his camera was rarely out of his hand for long.

Back in San Francisco late Friday afternoon he nearly got in touch to see if Reed had   
made plans for the evening, but his mood was too good to risk having it pulled down by a   
rejection: he'd call in the morning and they'd go running together. He decided to make the   
most of the free evening and visit one or two of the clubs he couldn't take the underage Reed.

It was after ten when he got to the Southern Belle and the club was beginning to get   
crowded. Tucker elbowed his way to the bar and got a beer before moving to lean against a   
pillar where he had a good view of the room. He stayed there for about fifteen minutes,   
watching the talent, taking the occasional pull from the bottle, making the beer last: drink   
wasn't the reason he was there. 

A young man swung out of the crush on the dance floor, heading towards the bar.   
About Tucker's height, slim, with the defined musculature of a man who spends a lot of time   
in the gym, he paused as if to catch his breath, pushing sweat-slicked dark hair back off his   
face. He seemed to sense Tucker's gaze, turning to meet his eyes and smiling. Tucker smiled   
back, tipping his by now empty bottle in a sort of salute. 

Moving with easy confidence the man crossed the gap between them, leaning against   
the pillar alongside Tucker, letting his eyes run over his body.

'Hi. Can I get you another beer...or anything?' He pulled back a little to take another   
long look at Tucker, the tip of his tongue playing over his bottom lip. 'Preferably anything,'   
he added lasciviously. 

Tucker grinned at him, letting his gaze fall until it rested on the man's denim-encased   
crotch.

'Sounds good to me,' he said.

They moved to a marginally more private place, a dimly lit short corridor leading to   
the emergency exit. 

Tucker was facing back towards the main room, sandwiched between the surprisingly   
cold wall and a definitely hot man. He'd pulled the man's t-shirt free from his jeans and slid   
one hand inside the tight waistband, wedging two fingers between his pert buttocks. 

Enjoying the sensation as their burgeoning erections ground into each other, Tucker used his   
other hand to push up the man's t-shirt, finding a nipple and giving it a tug. 

The man leaned in, biting Tucker's earlobe. As Tucker turned his head slightly to   
accommodate him his eyes suddenly registered a figure passing the end of the corridor, and   
he stiffened in entirely the wrong way.

'Malcolm!'

He tried to take a step after the retreating figure, brought up short by the body in front   
of him.

'I'm sorry,' he said, disentangling himself.

The man was looking over his shoulder nervously.

'Boyfriend?' he asked.

'No. Just someone... I have to go.'

'Well fuck you.' The man was straightening his clothes angrily.

'I said I was sorry,' Tucker said, defensively. 

'Well that makes it just fine, doesn't it? Damn prick-tease.'

'Oh, go fuck yourself,' Tucker snapped as he left, stung into irritation because he knew   
the guy had every right to be annoyed. 

There was no sign of Reed when Tucker reached the main room. In the greater light   
he realised that his own clothing was in some disarray, and he took a moment to tidy himself   
up. He was grateful that no lingering tell-tale of his erection remained, but he still felt hot   
and bothered.

He made his way through the club, searching for any sign of the young Englishman,   
and was just beginning to wonder if it had been wishful thinking - or guilt - that had made   
him think he'd seen Reed when he spotted him.

Reed was dancing with a man Tucker vaguely recognised - not someone he knew, but   
he'd seen him at the club before. He took a moment to watch, appreciating how good Reed   
looked on the dance-floor: he was wearing an outfit Tucker hadn't seen before - tight-fitting   
pants that looked to be leather, and a plain dark red t-shirt, a short gold chain glinted at his   
neck.

'Moves well, doesn't he?' a familiar, and unwelcome voice said. 'I'm so glad you let   
him out to play on his own.'

Tucker refused to rise to Peirce's taunting. It was true that he could be malicious if   
crossed, but Tucker judged that he didn't have any serious interest in Reed; trying to stir up   
trouble was just second nature to the man. Anyway, Reed was unlikely to trust someone he'd   
described as creepy.

Far more dangerous was the man Reed was dancing with; his attitude made his   
intentions clear - to Tucker at any rate. He did wonder if Reed fully realised what he was   
getting himself into. 

There was a pause in the music and Reed's dance partner slung an arm across his   
shoulders, leading him off the dance floor, towards the bar. Ignoring another jibe from   
Pierce, Tucker set off after them. As he pushed through the throng of people who seemed   
determined to obstruct him, he saw the couple stop at an alcove formed by a buttressing   
pillar. The other man leaned down to say something, stroking Reed's neck before heading to   
the bar. 

Left alone Reed relaxed his air of bravado. Tucker thought he looked a bit lost, and   
there was almost a touch of relief mingled in with the guilty surprise when he spotted Tucker   
heading towards him.

'Trip! I didn't know you were back.' Reed glanced nervously towards the bar.

'What are you doing here?' Tucker was too annoyed to be tactful. 'You're under age.   
You could get into real trouble, heck, you could get arrested.'

Reed didn't reply, but looked away guiltily and suddenly Tucker thought he   
understood what was going on.

'That's what you want, isn't it?' he demanded incredulously. 'You're trying to piss off   
your dad or the navy, or something - is that it? You damn fool. And that guy you're with;   
you have no idea what you're doing.'

'On the contrary, Mister Tucker, I know exactly what I'm doing, thank you very   
much,' Reed said, with stiff formality. 

Neither of them noticed the dance partner return from the bar until he spoke. 

'This guy bothering you, Malcolm?'

Before Reed could answer, Tucker swung around and spoke with barely contained   
anger.

'No, I'm not 'bothering' him, I'm taking him home.' Ignoring both Reed's half-formed   
protest and the other man's more vocal objections, he continued: 'He's too young to be in here   
legal, and he's certainly too young to be legal for what you've got in mind,' he snapped, too   
mad to care about accuracy.

'Hey,' the man said, backing away, 'if I'm stepping on your toes you just have to say.   
Sorry, kid. Come without your daddy next time, eh.'

Tucker turned back to Reed, pulling up at the undisguised fury that met him.

'What the fuck are you playing at, Trip?'

'I'm getting you outa here and outa trouble, that's what.'

'Think again, Mister Tucker.' Reed punctuated this by poking Tucker forcefully in the   
chest with one finger. 'I'm old enough to look after myself.'

It dawned on Tucker that Reed's formal carefulness, which he'd taken for British   
stiffer-upper-lip annoyance was nothing of the sort: Reed was drunk. Probably nervousness   
leading him to take more Dutch courage than was wise rather than a deliberate attempt by   
anyone to get him drunk, but the effect was the same; it made him reckless - and vulnerable. 

They'd both raised their voices, and now were attracting unwanted attention from   
people near to them. Tucker grabbed hold of Reed's elbow with the intention of moving to a   
quieter area. Reed dug his heels in and refused to be moved.

'Malcolm, you want to cause a scene, go right ahead, because just now I'm mad   
enough to slap you.'

'Let go of my arm.'

Tucker took in the mulish set of Reed's mouth, but ignored it. 'You're coming with   
me whether you like it or not.'

Reed capitulated. 'All right, all right. Just let go of my arm.'

Tucker did so, but stayed close to the younger man as he led them both back to the   
quiet corridor he'd so recently vacated. 

'So,' Tucker started. He was between Reed and the exit from the corridor. The dim   
glow of the emergency exit signs didn't throw sufficient light for him to see the younger   
man's expression clearly, but the stiff posture and defensively crossed arms were clear   
enough. Tucker caught himself crossing his own arms, realised it shouted 'confrontational'   
and uncrossed them again, standing for a moment not knowing what to do with his hands. 

'Malcolm,' he started again. 'I'm not trying to embarrass you or cause trouble, but you   
gotta realise how bad it'll look if you get arrested, or just thrown out of the club. Caltech are   
real hot on that kind of thing.' He lifted a hand to Reed's shoulder, dropping it awkwardly to   
his side again when Reed stiffened and pulled back just out of reach.

'This has nothing to do with Caltech,' Reed muttered.

'Of course it does!' Tucker paused a moment, reining in his temper. 'School'll be the   
first to hear about any trouble. Not the Navy, not your dad. Caltech throw you out, it won't   
matter what the Royal Navy think.'

'They won't throw me out,' Reed said, his bravado back in full force. 'I'm too good.'

'Fuck, Malcolm! It doesn't work like that. No one's going to give a damn how good   
you are; you bring the name of Caltech into disrepute, you'll be out before you know what hit   
you.'

Tucker finally found something to do with his hands, but figuring that grabbing Reed   
and trying to shake some sense into him wasn't going to help any, he settled for clenching his   
fists tightly at his sides. 

Reed noticed and clearly misinterpreted; his mouth twisted into a sneer.

'What are you planning to do, Trip? Drag me out of the club, kicking and screaming?   
I'm sure Caltech would love that.'

Tucker's grip on his temper slipped a notch.

'Forget being under age,' he said, trying for patient reason, 'it's against the law, but not   
such a big deal, I guess. But trying to hook up with some guy...and for what? You know   
nothing about that guy you were with; you have no idea what he's like, whether he's honest, if   
he's clean. It's not safe, Malcolm. Forget trying to annoy the navy, get even with your   
family, whatever. You shouldn't be here behaving like that.'

'Why?' Reed snapped back. 'Because I haven't got your experience, your expertise?'   
Uncrossing his arms, he took a step towards Tucker. 'It's all right for you to pick up guys. All   
right for you to be up against a wall with another guy down your throat and in your trousers,   
but not for me: is that what you're saying?!'

Shit. Tucker ground his teeth in frustration; shit, shit shit! He knew Reed was sharp   
and observant; it just hadn't occurred to him that when he'd first seen Reed, the other man   
had also seen him. Before he could think of anything to say, Reed went for the kill.

'Or is it jealousy?' he sneered. 'I know you like me, Trip.' There was a world of   
meaning imbued in the word, like. 'That's why you're always hanging around; always trying   
to get me to do things with you, go places, meet your family. I'm right, aren't I?'

He took another step towards Tucker, his face a parody of a lascivious grin, eyelashes   
fluttering with calculated exaggeration.

'Stop it!'

Tucker moved forwards involuntarily, cutting the distance between them until he was   
close enough to feel the heat of Reed's body, hear his panting breath, smell the scent of sex   
on him. Reed swayed slightly towards him, and Tucker snapped.

'Shut the fuck up!' He planted a hand in the middle of Reed's chest, pushing him   
sharply backwards, not caring when he stumbled and almost fell. 'You have no idea what   
you're talking about and no idea what you're doing,' he snarled. 'But you want to get fucked   
by some anonymous trick, fine. There's plenty here'll be falling over themselves to take a   
greenhorn like you out back. I'm sure it'll piss your dad off real good!'

Shaking with fury, Tucker turned and strode away; fists once again fiercely clenched   
\- this time to stop him hitting Reed.

He left the club, his thunderous expression enough to keep the few people he knew   
from approaching him, and was two blocks away before it occurred to him that maybe he'd   
done exactly what Reed wanted.

He stopped abruptly, raising a hand in apology to the woman who ran into him.   
Adrenaline coursed through his body, leaving him shaky and on edge. Taking a series of   
deep breaths to try and calm himself down he thought over what had happened.

No matter which way he looked at it he came to the same conclusion: Reed had   
deliberately got him mad, presumably hoping he'd storm out. And Tucker had played right   
into his hands. 

Should he go back? Would he trust himself to go back? If he went back and found   
Reed against the corridor wall with 'some guy down his throat and in his trousers', or worse   
still, in the alleyway out back...he wouldn't let himself picture that. What would he do?   
What did he have the right to do?

Whatever he'd said to Reed's dance partner, the Brit was over the legal age for   
homosexual relations - too young to drink in the club, but old enough to get fucked! No   
matter how far Humanity had progressed since their first contact with the Vulcan, some   
things were still crazy.

He was still mad: Reed's words had hit a nerve. And that was another thing: Reed   
had said he knew Tucker liked him. The implication was clear; Reed thought Tucker was   
attracted to him, sexually. Of course, it could just be something he'd picked on, calculating it   
would be the one thing to push Tucker's buttons. But Tucker didn't really believe that. Reed,   
who may or may not still be a virgin with girls, was certainly a virgin with boys. And, his   
behaviour in the club notwithstanding, his reaction to Tucker's interest didn't bode well for   
any hope the American might have been holding on to that his feelings would ever be   
returned.

Reed had noticed Tucker's interest in him and, armaments expert that he was, had   
used it as a weapon against him. That hurt.

The door of a nearby bar swung open, and a boisterous group spilled onto the   
sidewalk in a blast of country music. 

Suddenly Tucker was overwhelmed by a need for company, and the undemanding   
friendliness of a crowded bar.

'Fuck him,' he muttered to himself, and headed into the warm anonymity of the bar.

 

March drew to a close and they were three weeks into April, and still Tucker hadn't   
spoken to Reed. The pain he'd felt when he realised how Reed had manipulated him at the   
club had cooled to a dull ache, overwhelmed by the fear that maybe that was all their   
friendship had been to the Brit; that he had just seen Tucker as a weapon in his war against   
the navy and his father.

He still saw Reed around the campus. The first time had been the Monday after their   
fight; Tucker had walked into the cafeteria and Reed, spotting him, had leaned close to the   
boy and girl he was sitting with and whispered something to them. They'd all laughed, got to   
their feet and left, Reed with his arm around each of the others' waists, none of them sparing   
a glance in his direction.

After that, whenever he saw Reed in a social setting there was one of a string of girls   
with him. Sometimes it seemed like Reed was deliberately flaunting his female company in   
Tucker's face; other times he seemed not to know the American existed. 

Tucker found it depressing, and hurtful, and took to avoiding the places the two of   
them used to frequent. He hadn't been back to the Belle since that night; the last thing he   
wanted was to give Carlton Pierce the opportunity to tell him exactly what Reed had got up   
to after he left. He told himself he wasn't avoiding Reed; he was just reconnecting with the   
places and people he used to hang out with before the Brit came on the scene, but there was a   
Reed-shaped hole in his life that he found impossible to fill.

 

 

Tucker hadn't been to O'Malley's since his row with Reed at the Southern Belle. 

A quick glance around the bar as he entered showed Reed was nowhere to be seen,   
leaving him with a sense of relief tinged with disappointment. He was heading out to Jupiter   
Station on a three month attachment the next day and would have welcomed an excuse to try   
and make his peace with Reed; to let him know where he'd disappeared to and why.

He was at the bar with a group of friends; one stop on a birthday pub crawl. They   
were trying to hit bars of as many nationalities as possible within walking distance of the   
campus. Irish was the sixth, or possibly the seventh. Realising he'd lost count, Tucker   
ordered dealcoholised beer, sticking to his guns despite protests and ribbing from the rest of   
the group. 

He was laughing over a risquÃ© joke and didn't initially hear the server when she spoke   
to him. Putting the last of the drinks on the table, she tapped his arm with the edge of her   
tray.

'It is you, isn't it?'

'Huh?' He blinked at her in confusion. 

'The British kid,' she clarified. 'It's you he hangs out with?'

'Used to, yeah.' Tucker was instantly alert, fighting off a feeling of foreboding.   
'Why?'

'He's in back.' She nodded towards the back of the bar where there was a smaller, less   
popular room, not much more than a corridor en route to the toilets. 'Drinking too much.   
We're going to have to refuse to serve him any more. I thought maybe you could get him to   
leave, save any trouble. He looks upset over something,' she added as she left.

'That Malcolm she's talking about?' Ed Parker asked, sliding back into his seat after a   
visit to the john. 'He's wasted, didn't even see me. Glad he's not my responsibility any more.'

Tucker sighed. If Reed was upset enough to get smashed something really bad must   
have happened, and Tucker thought he knew what it was.

'I better go see he's okay,' he said, getting to his feet.

'Relax,' Parker advised. 'He's not our problem.'

'He's not a problem, he's a friend.'

Worry made him curt, and Parker leaned back, raising his hands defensively.

'Hey, no sweat. Go hold his hand if you want. You need help getting him out of   
here, don't wait too long. We're moving on after this drink.'

Parker was right, Tucker decided on seeing Reed; the youngster was wasted. But   
possibly not as badly as first glance suggested; his air of unmitigated despair made him seem   
drunker than he was.

'Hey, Malcolm.'

Tucker sat on the stool opposite Reed, putting his glass down on the tabletop and   
watching with growing concern as grey eyes stared back at him, dull and unfocussed, and   
bright with unshed tears.

'Trip!'

The word was a choked gasp, relief overriding panic, as if he were drowning and had   
suddenly been thrown a lifeline.

'What's happened?'

Reed hung his head, running both hands through his hair to leave the gelled blond   
spikes sticking out in all directions.

'I've been chucked out,' he sighed, confirming Tucker's suspicions. 

The server passed the doorway and noticing, Reed waved at her, scowling as she   
shook her head.

'Here.' Tucker pushed his untouched beer across the table. 'It's what you wanted,   
isn't it?' Tucker asked, adding, 'Being chucked out,' when Reed looked uncomprehendingly at   
the glass in his hand.

'Oh. I suppose so. But I didn't mean...I didn't think...'

Reed's attitude changed from despair to annoyed in a flash, his fist closing firmly   
around the glass and drawing back as if to throw it.

'Whoa there!' Tucker reached over and grabbed the glass. 'Getting thrown out of here   
too, ain't going to make things any better.'

He put the glass down out of Reed's reach and wiped the spilled beer off his hand on   
his jeans.

'The bastards said they thought maybe I wasn't cut out for military service,' Reed said   
in a tone of hurt surprise. 'That I was bringing the reputation of the Royal Navy into   
disrepute.'

Tucker didn't feel he could argue with that, but as Reed clearly expected him to say   
something, he asked again, 'Isn't this what you wanted, to leave the navy?' 

'Yes, but...but...'

Despair overwhelmed him again, and for a horrible moment Tucker thought he was   
going to burst into tears. 

Scrubbing the heel of one hand across his eyes, Reed finally got to what was really   
troubling him.

'They're sending me home,' he all but wailed.

Tucker toyed with looking surprised, but decided that it was probably better to be   
honest.

'Yeah, well, they were paying for you being here: that's not going to continue now   
you've been sacked.'

'You think they're right!' Reed accused.

'Not a matter of right or wrong, Malcolm. The navy isn't going to pay for your   
education now you've gotten yourself thrown out, are they?'

'I'll get a job - another job. I can pay my own way.'

Tucker pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb.

'Not going to work, Malcolm. You're here on a navy exchange programme; they pull   
your funding, you're outa here.'

'But I don't want to go home! I'm good, everyone says so. I need to be here; I need   
these weapons labs.'

'Maybe you can find another sponsor to send you back.' Tucker didn't really believe   
it; who but the armed forces had need of a weapons expert anyway? 'Or maybe your parents   
can fund you.'

Reed dragged a padd out of one of his jacket pockets and silently handed it to   
Tucker.

There was only one thing on it; a letter from an airline informing Reed that his father   
had paid for his journey home and expected him to adhere to the arrangements made. The   
flight was in two days time.

'He's getting you home safely--' 

'Yes. So he can tell me in person what a disappointment I am, how I've let him and   
Mum down and besmirched the Reed family name,' Reed interrupted bitterly.

He sounded so much like a character in an English costume melodrama that Tucker   
was hard pushed not to laugh, and quickly raised a hand to smother his grin.

'It can't be that bad,' he objected.

'It is! It will be. You don't know them.'

Tucker shrugged, acknowledging the truth of that.

Reed slumped forward, once again in the depths of despair. The server came in and   
indicated Tucker's neglected glass.

'This finished with?'

'No. Get him another one,' Reed snapped. 'And a large whisky for me.'

'I think you've had enough, kid,' she said gently.

'Bitch!'

'Hey,' Tucker stepped in before the server could say anything. 'That's enough,   
Malcolm. Sorry,' he added to the woman. 'I'll take him home.'

'You got five minutes. He's still here then, I'll get the boys to remove him. Okay?'

'Five minutes. Got it,' Tucker confirmed.

Turning back to Reed he said, 'You heard the woman. On your feet.'

'I don't want to go home.'

Unsure whether the plaintive wail referred to the current situation or his imminent   
return to Britain, Tucker ignored it and hauled Reed to his feet.

The night sky was clear, a few stars even winning the battle against the city lights.   
The cool dry air hit Reed as soon as they stepped outside, seemingly intensifying the effects   
of the alcohol, and before they'd gone very far Tucker, who'd started out merely guiding him   
in the right direction, ended up supporting him. The walk to the student block where Reed   
roomed took almost half an hour, twice as long as usual, and by the time they arrived he'd   
reached the maudlin, self-pitying stage of drunkenness, although, Tucker admitted, Reed did   
at least have some grounds for self-pity.

Tucker managed to get him to concentrate long enough to key open his door. Once   
they were inside the tiny apartment Reed wanted to flop on the bed, but Tucker wouldn't let   
him, pushing him into the desk chair.

'I don't want you passing out, Malcolm. I'm getting you some water, okay?'

He let go of Reed's shoulder cautiously, ready to catch hold if the young man showed   
signs of falling off the chair. Grabbing a tumbler from the kitchenette, Tucker filled it from   
the tap and handed it to Reed.

'Get that down you. Don't gulp it,' he warned. 'Drink it slowly.'

Reed complied, protesting only when Tucker refilled the glass.

'Just drink it,' Tucker ordered. 'With luck it'll help the doozy of a hangover you're   
going to have in the morning. You want something to eat?'

Reed, who had been making slow inroads on the second glass of water, turned pale.

'Shouldn't have mentioned food,' he mumbled, one hand clamped firmly over his   
mouth.

'Shit!'

Reacting quickly, Tucker hauled Reed to his feet and thrust him into the bathroom.   
There was barely room for the two of them in the confined space, but Tucker managed to get   
the lid of the john up and Reed on his knees in front of it just in time. 

When he was sure Reed had finished throwing up, Tucker ran warm water in the small   
basin and used a damp towel to clean him off. Then he hauled Reed back on his feet and half   
carried him to the bed, propping him up against the wall at its back.

'Sorry, so sorry, Trip.'

The words were barely audible.

'Forget it.' Tucker recovered the dropped tumbler from under the desk, gave it a quick   
wipe, and refilled it. 'Here. It'll help clean your mouth, and I know you've just got rid of   
most of whatever you were drinking tonight, but it'll still help with the hangover.'

Reed took the glass reflexively, clutching it in both hands as he rocked gently against   
the wall, all the while murmuring apologies.

'Drink,' Tucker ordered. 'You can't have forgotten how already.' He sat on the bed   
alongside Reed and, alerted by the smell of vomit, said, 'You should get out of those clothes.'

Reed looked at him as though the task was beyond not only his ability, but also his   
comprehension.

Tucker carefully lifted the hem of Reed's linen jacket to show the cause of the aroma.   
'It's on your shirt too.'

Nodding his understanding Reed started to shrug out of the jacket, tipping the glass   
of water over his legs.

'I guess the jeans are coming off too,' Tucker said, mentally kicking himself for the   
image his words conjured up.

With considerable help from Tucker Reed eventually got out of his soiled clothes and   
into bed. The best thing for him now was sleep, but Tucker was reluctant to leave him alone   
while there was even the slightest chance he might vomit again: he resigned himself to a   
possibly long and almost certainly uncomfortable night in the room's only armchair.

Dimming the light, he first of all returned to the bathroom and cleaned up the mess   
they'd left. Then he filled the kitchenette sink with cold water and dunked Reed's jacket and   
shirt in it to soak: he wasn't sure how good it would be for the garments, but at least it helped   
kill the smell.

Settling into the easy-chair, he was surprised to see Reed watching him through half-  
closed eyes.

'Thanks. Sorry about this...everything.'

Tucker shook his head and shrugged. He didn't want to start a conversation: Reed   
was more than half asleep, the sooner he gave in to it the better.

'Don't want to go home.' The words were so quiet Tucker had to lean forward in his   
seat to hear them. 'Not just the weapons lab; don't want to leave you, Trip.'

Tucker forced down the sudden surge of hope. Reed was very drunk and almost   
asleep; he probably didn't really know what he was saying, and even if he did, it probably   
didn't mean what Tucker desperately wanted it to.

'Go to sleep, Malcolm,' he said. 'Things won't seem so bad in the morning.'

'Stay?'

'A little while, yes, but not all night. I'm leaving for Jupiter Station in the morning, on   
attachment. Hey, lay back down,' he said, as Reed started to struggle to sit up. 'I'll leave you   
my number. Call me and we'll sort something out.'

He knew he was promising what he couldn't deliver; it would take more than his   
talents to sort out Reed's mess for him. But the words seemed to calm the youngster down,   
and within minutes he was soundly asleep.

Tucker stayed as long as he could, not even attempting to sleep himself, just watching   
Reed in the reflected glow of a nearby streetlight. When the eastern sky at last showed the   
first stain of dawn he stood, stretching the kinks out of his limbs. He found a piece of paper   
on Reed's desk, jotted down his contact details at Jupiter Station and propped it against the   
computer screen. Crossing to the bed he carefully adjusted the coverlet that had slipped awry   
in the night, and smoothed down the disordered blond spikes of Reed's hair.

'You take care, Malcolm,' he whispered. 'I hope you find what you're looking for.'

Bending down he placed a first - and last - kiss on Reed's temple, took a last long   
look at the sleeping Englishman, and then quietly let himself out.

 

***

 

2151 - Starfleet Headquarters

 

Jonathan Archer, recently appointed Captain of Earth's first warp five starship, looked   
up from the padds spread over his desk and pulled a face.

'Tactical Officer,' he said. 'I don't like the idea of Enterprise needing a tactical   
officer.'

'Can't expect everyone out there to welcome us with open arms. Just planning for all   
eventualities, Cap'n.' 

Trip Tucker smiled as he said the word Cap'n. He and Archer had been friends since   
they first met on the Warp Five Project almost nine years ago. They'd put all their energies   
and talents into seeing Enterprise built and now they were about to reap the rewards; Tucker,   
now a Commander, as Chief Engineer and First Officer, Archer as Captain. Tucker, with no   
false modesty, admitted that he knew he was way ahead of the rest of the field for the   
engineering job, but there'd been real doubts for a time about who would get the captain's   
position. The Vulcans had been pushing for Gardener, but in the end Starfleet had gone for   
Archer - the obvious choice in Tucker's - and many other people's - opinion.

Unaware of Tucker's diversion down memory lane, Archer continued their   
conversation.

'I guess not. But we're explorers. It shouldn't be necessary.' He sighed and pulled   
the padds towards him. 'I had a shortlist of four, but two of them got married - to each other   
\- and decided they wanted to stay on Earth.'

'You're kidding!' Tucker chortled. Still laughing, he asked, 'So who are the two left?'

'Angela Franks, 32, Canadian, good record. She's solid on security; postings to Luna   
and Jupiter Station, two years on Mars as Chief Investigator. She majored in criminology   
before she joined Starfleet. Not so strong on weapons, but knows her stuff.'

'Sounds more like a cop that a tactical officer,' Tucker opined. 'Is that what you're   
looking for?'

Archer shrugged. 'She's qualified, more than. I guess I'm just concerned that   
Enterprise isn't turned into a war ship.'

'Not going to happen, Cap'n. Not with you in charge.'

Archer gave his friend a wry smile before picking up the other padd.

'The other guy's British, from a military background. I know, I know,' he said   
acknowledging Tucker's raised eyebrows and pointed look. 'One extreme to the other.' He   
turned back to the padd. 'Malcolm Reed, 28, like I said British. Very strong weapons   
background. Good grounding in basic security, unarmed combat... What?'

Tucker was sitting straight up in his chair, a stunned expression on his face.

'Malcolm Reed?' he said. 'Can I see that?' 

Archer handed him the padd. 'You know him?'

Tucker stared at the small screen trying to calm the butterflies conjured up by the   
familiar grey eyes staring back at him. Reed was older than the youngster he remembered,   
and his hair was dark - it suited him better than the dyed blond - but it was undoubtedly the   
same person.

'Trip.'

'Huh.' Tucker could tell from Archer's tone that it wasn't the first time he'd spoken,   
but he was still too surprised to answer coherently.

'You know Lieutenant Reed?'

'Knew him, past tense. He wasn't in Starfleet then; I'd only just joined myself. I was   
doing my masters at Caltech; Malcolm was an exchange student.

'You were friends?'

Tucker grimaced. Knowing what Archer was really asking. He couldn't blame the   
man, his own reaction made it obvious that Reed was more to him than just someone he once   
met at university. But wasn't that just what he was? Nothing had happened between them.   
Tucker didn't even know if Reed liked men, other than as a way to piss his dad off. They'd   
been friends for a short time - that was all. But if that was the case, how come his heart had   
leapt when he'd heard the name and all those butterflies had started doing acrobatics in his   
stomach when Archer handed him the picture? No, Tucker conceded, as far as he was   
concerned it had been more than friendship, even if Reed hadn't known. But he had no   
intention of admitting that, not even to his best friend.

'We worked on the same campus,' he dissembled. 'Went out a few times, had a few   
beers. Then he got sent home and we lost touch. He's changed,' he said, eyes on the picture   
again. 'I didn't know he was in Starfleet.'

'Do you think he's unsuitable?'

Clearly Archer was picking up something from Tucker, but wasn't able to figure out   
what.

'No, no.' Tucker skimmed through Reed's record, marvelling at how much he'd   
achieved. 'It was along time ago; he wasn't much more than a kid when I knew him.   
Weapons mad even then.' He grinned at the memory of a tipsy Reed demonstrating the   
principles of ballistics, and how he was much more concerned that his trajectory had been off   
than about the damage his improvised missile had done to the bar's mirror. 'He seems great,   
more what we need than Franks, I'd say.'

Archer retrieved the padd with Reed's details, scrolling through it. 'It doesn't say   
anything here about him being sent home from Caltech.'

Tucker started guiltily. 'I didn't mean to say that,' he admitted, and then rolled his   
eyes. 'And okay, I definitely shouldn't have said that.'

Archer just sat back and waited.

'Malcolm was a bit wild back then. There was a situation with his family, and the   
Royal Navy - it does mention the navy, right?' At Archer's nod he went on. 'Yeah, well, he   
got into some trouble with them. Nothing serious,' he hastened to assure the captain. 'Just   
some stuff they were too uptight to take. They pulled his funding and so he had to go home.   
If you need more details I really think you should ask him yourself. I don't want to tell tales.   
And he's changed.' At Archer's sceptical look, he insisted: 'He must have sorted himself out   
or he wouldn't be on your list. And he really was brilliant with weapons even back then;   
that's why he was at Caltech. Enterprise deserves the best, Cap'n, and going on his record   
Malcolm Reed is the best person for this job.'

'Hmm. I'm interviewing both of them later this afternoon. I'll see what I think when I   
meet him. And maybe you'd better sit this one out.'

As Enterprise's First Officer Tucker had been a party to Archer's staffing   
deliberations, and had sat in on most of the interviews, but he had no problems with Archer's   
decision to leave him out this time. In fact he was rather relieved. He didn't want his first   
meeting with this new Reed to be in that restrictive, formal situation. He also didn't want   
Reed to think that Archer's decision, whatever it was, was influenced by Tucker's previous   
knowledge of him. 

That set him wondering if Reed knew that he was Enterprise's Chief Engineer.   
Archer's captaincy had been the subject of much media attention: other appointments hadn't   
garnered the same public interest, but were common knowledge within Starfleet. Surely   
Reed must know? Did he apply for the position because of Tucker, or in spite of him? 

Determined as he was to meet up with Reed again, on or off Enterprise, Tucker found   
himself anticipating it with a degree of trepidation.

 

****

2151 - Enterprise

 

The knock on the frame of Tucker's open office door was almost diffident.

'Commander?'

Tucker recognised the voice immediately, the accent unmistakable even after so long,   
and he was grinning as he turned.

'Malcolm! Sorry, Lieutenant Reed, I should say.' He took a good look at the man,   
taking in the changes. Reed was still slender, but more muscular, no longer a skinny youth,   
and he looked more...together somehow; there was a quiet air of maturity and authority   
about him. 'It's good to see you again.'

'You too, sir.'

'Trip. It's still Trip, Malcolm.'

He thought he saw a glimmer of pleasure light up Reed's eyes, then the professional   
mask slid back into place.

'I don't think that would be appropriate, Commander.'

Tucker didn't agree, but he didn't press the point, cutting to what was more   
immediately important to him.

'Until I saw your name on the captain's interview list I didn't know you were in   
Starfleet. How long has it been?'

'Nearly seven years now. But different specialities; our paths never crossed.'

'You could have gotten in touch.'

'I wasn't sure....'

There was the air of vulnerability Tucker remembered, and he found it just as   
appealing now as he did back then.

'I didn't think you'd want...'

'I would have,' he averred, rescuing Reed from his uncertainty. 'But you're here now.   
Welcome to Enterprise.' He grinned, holding out his hand. 'Good to have you on board.'

With just a slight hesitation, Reed took the proffered hand in a firm, confident grip.

'Good to be here, Trip.'

Reed's smile lit up his whole face, momentarily transforming him back into the   
reckless youngster of twelve years earlier, and Tucker felt himself grinning again, forgetting   
he still had hold of Reed's hand until the man let go.

'So how d'you like the armoury?' Tucker asked, returning the conversation to business,   
where he reckoned Reed felt more comfortable.

'Not as much as I would if the phase canons were installed. I don't like the idea of   
leaving spacedock with only the torpedoes operative.'

Reed displayed a new confidence when he spoke about the weapons, Tucker noted.

'We're just taking a sick man home, Malcolm, not going to war.'

'Still, we don't know what we're going to meet out there. I'll feel a lot happier once   
this mission's over and we come back to complete the installation.'

Tucker laughed, shaking his head. 'Ever the optimist.'

'Just being realistic, Commander. If Starfleet thought we wouldn't need weapons, I   
wouldn't be here.'

'True,' Tucker conceded. 'You got time for a tour of engineering?'

'I should report to the captain,' Reed demurred, and Tucker was gratified to hear a   
note of disappointment in his voice. 'I really should have done that first, but I wanted to   
check things in the armoury in case he asked for a report, and when I got there the ensign on   
duty said you wanted to see me.'

'The Cap'n can keep awhile; he's walking his dog.'

Reed gave him an old-fashioned look. 'Is that a euphemism for something?' he asked   
uncertainly.

Tucker snorted with laughter. 'Nope, he really is walking his dog.'

'On a starship?' Reed's voice telegraphed his disapproval.

'Yeah, and don't you even think of saying anything against Porthos. Not if you want   
to stay in the Cap'n's good books. Come on, I'll give you the ten cent tour.' And he dragged   
Reed off to admire the warp engine, happy for the moment just to spend time in his company.

 

***

 

Reed's fears about the need for weapons unfortunately proved to be well-founded as   
their maiden voyage turned from an eight-day round trip to take the wounded Klingon,   
Klaang, home into a battle with the mysterious Suliban. And he was far from pleased at   
Starfleet's decision that Enterprise should set out on her mission of exploration without first   
returning to Earth.

'You're not glad we're finally out here exploring?' Tucker asked over lunch in the mess   
hall.

'Of course I'm glad. I just don't like the ship not being properly defended. We need   
the phase canons. How long would it have taken to go back and have them fitted?'

'I don't know about Starfleet, but I think Captain Archer was worried if we went   
home the Vulcans would find a way to stop us setting out again,' Tucker opined.

'I did suggest to the captain that we could build and install the canons ourselves, but   
he wasn't enthusiastic.'

'He doesn't want Enterprise becoming a war ship,' Tucker said with a shrug. 

Reed rolled his eyes, but let the subject drop.

 

The two men saw a lot of each other in the course of their work. Reed spent a fair   
amount of time at the tactical station on the bridge and Tucker was often to be found   
hovering somewhere nearby, ostensibly manning the engineering station. He was there partly   
because of the opportunity it gave to be in Reed's company, but also because of the sheer   
newness of being in deep space and the buzz of excitement he got from watching the main   
viewscreen. 

Their on duty interaction wasn't always smooth: Reed, keen to get the armoury   
running as efficiently as possible, had a tendency to act first, ask permission later, and Tucker   
had had to put his foot down as chief engineer more than once. Initially Tucker worried that   
the arguments this caused would sour their friendship, and he was happy to find Reed was   
adept at keeping work and his personal life separate and held no grudges about the rank-  
pulling.

 

They met occasionally off duty - sharing a meal or going to the gym together - but   
not as often as Tucker would have liked. He was at a loss how get to spend more time with   
the man without making it obvious, and then fate played a hand.

It was after midnight, long past the time when alpha shift personnel would normally   
be in bed, but Tucker had been called back to engineering to deal with a power fluctuation   
just as he was about to turn in, and now, fault fixed, he was too wired to sleep. He headed to   
the mess hall, figuring a glass of warm milk might do the trick.

It was some time before beta shift would be turning up to eat and the room was in   
semi-darkness, only the area by the food cabinets lit. He got his milk from the resequencer   
and was just contemplating whether a slice of key lime pie would help or hinder sleep when   
he realised he wasn't alone. If the man hadn't been sitting in front of the window Tucker   
probably wouldn't have noticed him, but there was just enough light from the passing stars to   
silhouette his figure. Tucker recognised Reed instantly, despite the poor light. He hesitated,   
wondering if his company would be welcome, and then figured that if the lieutenant hadn't   
wanted company he shouldn't have chosen to sit in a public place. 

'Hey,' he said quietly as he approached, not wanting to startle the man.

'Hey yourself,' Reed replied. He was slouched comfortably in his chair, hands clasped   
around a mug on the table in front of him. There was nothing to give an indication of why he   
was here; the sweat pants and t-shirt looked like those Tucker had seem him wear to the gym,   
but equally they could be his sleep-wear; either way he was clearly not on duty.

'I couldn't get to sleep, thought some milk might help.' Tucker held up his glass as   
evidence. 'You mind?' He half pulled out a chair, waiting for Reed's approval before he sat.

'You're in uniform.'

It was all Reed said, but he shifted slightly in his chair and Tucker chose to take the   
movement as a shrug of permission, and sat down.

'Huh? Oh, I get you. Yeah, I got called to engineering, now I'm wide-awake. Hence   
the milk.' He tried to look closely at the Englishman, but the light was too dim. 'What about   
you, you been working too?'

Reed's mouth twisted in a smirk and he made a noise that told Tucker his casual   
question had been seen through.

'No. I couldn't sleep either. I came for chamomile tea.' The mug he pushed to one   
side was still half full, so Tucker guessed it hadn't helped. 'I was thinking about those people,   
the Axanar, the fifteen we found dead.'

Tucker knew that Hoshi Sato, Enterprise's communications officer, had panicked   
when the boarding party had discovered the bodies; he'd also seen how the Axanar crew's   
fate had troubled Captain Archer. He was surprised now to realise he'd never considered   
that Reed might be disturbed by the alien deaths, gruesome though they were; surprised that,   
despite their history, he'd been fooled by the faÃ§ade of detached professionalism the armoury   
officer habitually maintained.

'You want to talk about it?' he offered.

Reed shrugged, unforthcoming.

'Come on, Malcolm. It's obviously bothering you. It's just the two of us - friends.   
Talk to me.'

Reed rolled his eyes and pulled back a little from the table. Tucker held his breath,   
afraid he'd pushed too hard and Reed was going to make his excuses and leave. Then the   
tension left Reed's frame as quickly as it had arrived, and he slumped forwards, arms resting   
on the tabletop again.

'Are the Vulcans right?'

'Huh?' The question caught Tucker unprepared. 'About what?'

'Our being out here. It's just so...alien. I mean, people killed like cattle, their bodily   
fluids harvested - it's like something out of one of your science fiction films. And we just   
have no idea. It's so damn dangerous, and we're so unprepared.'

'It's new, strange; we're bound to hit a few problems.'

'A few problems!' Reed snorted. 'We haven't been out here a month and already   
we've made enemies of the Klingons, the Suliban, and sundry other people, not to mention   
today's aliens.'

Tucker was puzzled; this doubt didn't seem like the Reed he knew.

'It's not that bad,' he protested. 'We were helping the Klingons, and the Axanar were   
real friendly once the realised we were on their side.'

'Just as well! If they hadn't turned up, if Hoshi hadn't been able to convince them,   
we'd be hanging upside down now being drained of useful compounds.'

'Ah, you'd have given them a good fight.'

'With torpedoes that are only on target half the time and no phase cannons - I don't   
think so! We're just not equipped to defend ourselves.'

'That's what's really bothering you, isn't it? That the phase cannons aren't fitted?'

'I know Captain Archer's a friend of yours, Trip, but...' Reed bit off his words,   
clearly conflicted about continuing.

'He's an explorer, an idealist,' Tucker said. 'He doesn't like to think of Enterprise as a   
war ship.'

'Good, because it isn't,' Reed retorted.

'Would it help if I talked to him? Maybe I can persuade him to let us start work on   
the installation.'

'Could you? I don't want to cause any difficulty between you.'

'No problem. I'm not promising anything, mind.'

They talked, about all sorts of things, for another hour, before a massive yawn from   
Tucker persuaded them both to head for their beds. Tucker went to sleep happy that Reed   
had relaxed his military demeanour a little, and begun to treat him like a friend again, rather   
than just a superior officer.

 

Another late-night meeting took place not much more than a week later. This time   
Tucker was alone in the dimly lit lower observation lounge. His heart sank when the door slid   
open, throwing a swathe of bright light across the small space. He hunkered down against the   
sofa cushions, hoping the unseen intruder would change his mind and leave, but no such luck;   
the door closed again, and footsteps approached his position. Should he let on he was there,   
or just wait to be discovered? Either way chances were it'd scare crap out of the newcomer.   
He waited too long, and the decision was taken out of his hands.

'Oh, Commander. Trip. Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you.' 

Reed didn't look like he'd been scared, but he did look uncertain of his welcome.   
Tucker hastened to reassure him,

'Malcolm, hi. Sit.' He swung his feet to the floor, making room on the sofa, running a   
hand over the seat in case his boots had left any dirt.

'I don't want to intrude.'

'No, you're not. I'll be glad of the company.' And he meant it, his earlier desire for   
solitude disappearing in the Englishman's presence.

'If you're sure.' Reed sat, relaxing into the cushions with a quiet sigh. 'I like to watch   
the stars when we're at warp,' he said. 'I find them calming.'

'I came in here to hide,' Tucker admitted.

'Really?'

The genuine surprise in Reed's voice touched Tucker.

'I've been feeling like a fool; seeing stone people, trying to shoot T'Pol and all.'

'You were hallucinating. It wasn't you, it was the pollen.'

'Yeah, but all that suspicion, the lack of trust - that had to come from inside of me.'

Reed shrugged. 

'I doubt any of us would have done better; we none of us really trust the Vulcans, do   
we? And anyway, Phlox thinks the paranoia was a side-effect of the pollen; an inevitable   
side-effect, I mean. Introducing paranoia is what it does, to Humans at any rate.'

Tucker knew that the discussion with the doctor was part of the security officer's job,   
but he still couldn't quite dispel the feeling that Reed had sought him out to give him that   
information. The thought cheered him, and he grinned.

'You should 'a seen those stone people though - they were really something.'

Reed laughed.

'Tell me about them over dinner?' he suggested, and Tucker, who not five minutes ago   
would have claimed not to be hungry, suddenly discovered he was ravenous.

 

The weeks passed, and each of them had occasion to be glad the other was there to   
talk to, to offer comfort or support. 

Tucker's pregnancy was the cause of much gossip and hilarity throughout the ship -   
most of it wisely well hidden from the engineer. Even Archer, once he had ascertained his   
friend hadn't done anything he shouldn't have, couldn't resist the temptation to make fun at   
his expense. Reed, on the other hand, and in spite of the occasional smirk when Tucker's   
raging hormones got the better of him, was unerringly supportive.

Tucker had a worrying time when Reed was shot and taken hostage on Terra Nova;   
Phlox's cheerful assurances that the lieutenant would be fine during his captivity doing more   
to set his back up than his mind at rest. Then, when Reed was back on Enterprise and laid up   
in sickbay, he had his work cut out convincing him that he'd done a good job, and that   
Captain Archer didn't see it as a failure on his part that he'd been wounded.

A fortnight later Tucker was himself confined to sickbay after being held hostage.   
He, Archer and T'Pol, while visiting a Vulcan monastery on P'Jem had stumbled into a   
situation with a group of Andorians. Suffering from concussion, having been hit in the face   
with an Andorian rifle, Tucker had difficulty concentrating on the details of Reed's   
explanation of where he'd planted charges and his description of the resulting explosions, but   
he was content just to lie back and bask in the warmth of Reed's enthusiasm.

It was Reed who suggested that perhaps they should arrange to get together   
occasionally without one or the other of them being injured or indisposed.

'If you'd like to, I mean. I don't want to impose.'

Reed looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself, and Tucker jumped in, keen to   
deflect any attempt to retreat behind military correctness.

'Good idea. I enjoy our talks.'

'So do I.' Reed smiled. 'I'd just prefer that they didn't take place in sickbay.'

They kept things informal, just making a point to eat dinner a couple of times a week.   
Sometimes the talk was all of work, other times it ranged more widely, but never delving too   
deeply into the personal. Much as Tucker would have liked to know what had happened to   
Reed when he left San Francisco, he didn't want to invade Reed's privacy and was content to   
let the matter lie for the time being.

Tucker laughed over Reed and Mayweather's snow Vulcan, full of admiration for the   
delicately sculpted ears, and shared as much as he felt able of the misunderstanding over   
T'Pol's letter.

He poured out his enthusiasm about the Akaali's pre-industrial society, and his anger   
their exploitation by alien miners.

Reed shared his disquiet at the boomer Ryan's willingness to torture his Nausicaan   
prisoner.

July moved into August, and Enterprise found itself in company with a group of alien   
pilgrims en route to watch the Great Plume of Agasoria. 

Tucker had his hands full when plasma lightening severely damaged the warp   
manifold, starting an antimatter cascade. He was still puzzling over the disconnected   
conduit, which had fortuitously stopped the cascade in its tracks, when he got news from   
Captain Archer that stunned him. Crewman Daniels, one of the mess hall stewards, was in   
reality a soldier from 900 years in the future, and had been put on Enterprise to track down   
the Suliban, Silik, whom they had clashed with on their first mission. The day ended with   
Daniels dead and Silik escaping.

It wasn't Archer's best decision, Tucker conceded - leaving Reed out of the loop   
about Daniels. The lieutenant was royally pissed, and Tucker couldn't blame him. How could   
the captain expect his armoury officer to do his job without full information? 

Despite anything Tucker said Reed was inclined to think the captain's omission   
signalled a lack of trust. He had a tendency to obsess about anything that worried him, and   
they'd had more than one temporary falling out when Tucker, driven to distraction, had said   
the wrong thing. This time Tucker bit his tongue and put up with Reed's continued soul-  
searching; because this time he thought Reed was right. Not that he thought for a moment   
that Archer didn't trust Reed; but the man definitely should have been told what was going   
on.

 

September 2nd, and Tucker, finding it was Reed's birthday, remembered another   
September twelve years earlier; Reed inviting him out to dinner, not giving a reason. Tucker   
collected his dinner, steak and salad and a glass of water, and crossed to the table where   
Reed was sitting. Reed's empty pasta bowl was pushed to one side and a side plate   
containing a piece of the birthday cake was in front of him. He looked up, fork poised over   
the cake, as Tucker sat down.

'Good birthday?' the engineer asked.

'We got the repairs completed and the phase canons working again, so yes, I'd say so.'

'That's your idea of a good birthday - repairing canons?' 

Tucker grinned, but Reed answered seriously.

'Having the ship's defences at full strength is always good, even when it's not my   
birthday.' Then he smiled. 'The cake was a nice touch, ' he admitted. 'Unexpected.'

'You got the Cap'n to thank for that. And Hoshi; she did all the poking around to   
find out what your favourite food was.'

'Don't remind me,' Reed groaned, adding at Tucker's puzzled look: 'Nothing. Just a   
misunderstanding.'

'We're off duty now. You want another drink, to finish off the day? I've got a bottle   
of bourbon in my cabin waiting for a good excuse to open it. For old times' sake,' he added   
as Reed hesitated. It seemed to swing it.

'I'd like that, thanks. I have to check with the armoury when I leave here. Twenty-  
one hundred hours okay?'

'Great.' Tucker grinned again, and then forced himself to concentrate on his steak as   
Reed slid a cake and pineapple laden fork between his lips, closing his eyes as he savoured   
the mouthful.

 

Tucker checked his hair in the bathroom mirror, realised what he was doing and   
grimaced.

It's not a date, he told his reflection. No, his reflection answered back. It never was a   
date with Malcolm, and you've been kicking yourself ever since. It was never a date because   
Malcolm wasn't interested, not really. He was just trying to piss his dad off, or the Navy, or   
something. Calm down, his reflection ordered, play it cool, just see what happens. Let him   
take the lead. You don't even know if he likes guys.

'And stop talking to the mirror!' he said aloud, and then jumped guiltily as the door   
chime sounded. He hurried to let his visitor in, shaking his head as he caught himself   
checking his appearance one last time.

'Should I have changed?' Reed stopped just inside the door, sounding concerned as   
he took in Tucker's jeans and t-shirt.

'Nah, I'd gotten some grease on my sleeve, else I'd be in uniform myself,' Tucker lied.   
He'd changed in the hope it would help him feel more relaxed. 'Unless you'd be more   
comfortable...?'

'No, I'm fine.'

They were both still standing - just like an awkward first date, Tucker thought,   
smiling wryly to himself.

'What's amusing you?'

There was a hint of defensiveness in the question, and Tucker was reminded of the   
younger Reed's suspicion of being laughed at.

'Nothing,' he hastened to assure him. 'Sit, make yourself comfortable.' 

His broad gesture took in the whole of the small cabin. 'I'll get the glasses.' So   
saying, he disappeared into the bathroom, hiding the smile that threatened to resurface when   
he returned to find Reed sitting almost at attention in the desk chair.

'Here.' He handed poured a generous shot of bourbon into one of the tumblers and   
handed it to the Englishman. 'Get that down you. You did good today - the last few days.   
You can afford to relax now.'

Conversation ranged from general work topics to the specifics of the previous day's   
action. Both men relaxing as the level of the bourbon sank in the bottle.

Eventually, alcohol emboldened, Tucker said: 'You never did tell me how come you   
ended up in Starfleet. I came back from Jupiter Station to find you were gone, not even a   
message.'

It came out more forcefully than he intended, more accusatory, but Reed didn't seem   
to notice.

'You know what happened,' Reed shrugged. 'The Navy decided they and I weren't   
compatible, that I wasn't officer material.

'I suppose I'd always expected that my parents would step in and fund my education.   
In retrospect I don't know why I was so surprised when they refused; I'd gone against   
everything they wanted for me after all. They sent me the fare home - you know that - and a   
note saying that since I'd decided to squander my opportunities, they expected me to get a   
job and stand on my own two feet. I didn't want to go home with my tail between my legs.   
Stupid, I know, but I think I just expected things to carry on as they were; I just wouldn't be   
in the Navy any more. Well, you know that too.'

He looked at Tucker, ruefully. Reed finished the whisky in his glass and Tucker   
refilled it for him.

'Thanks. I wanted to talk to you about it.'

Tucker schooled his features not to show his surprise, and pleasure, at that admission.   
He didn't want to do anything to stem the flow of reminiscence.

'I had your note. I did nearly call, but it didn't seem right; you were working, and   
anyhow there was nothing you could have done. Too many people had already made that   
perfectly clear.

'I'd already been thinking about Starfleet,' he continued, surprising Tucker again.   
'You were always so enthusiastic about it, made it sound so interesting. There aren't that   
many organisations with a need for talents like mine, but Starfleet was one. And of course I   
knew they were sponsoring you. I suppose I had some idea that I could just change sponsors   
and stay on in San Francisco.' 

He gave a sardonic laugh at the naivety of his youthful self and took another long   
drink. Silently Tucker topped up both their glasses.

'So I took myself off to Starfleet recruitment and offered myself to them.' He   
grimaced at the memory. 'That was a humiliating experience. Lieutenant Middleton   
conducted the interview - she's Commander Middleton now. With hindsight I think she   
tried to let me down gently, although it didn't feel that way at the time.' He gave another   
short, bitter laugh. 'What it boiled down to was, go home, grow up, and then maybe - only   
maybe, mind - they might consider my application. Once I'd completed my degree.

'I was mortified and embarrassed. And incredibly angry; with Starfleet, with my   
father, anything and everything. That's when you found me drowning my sorrows.'

Tucker nodded, remembering their last - their only - night together; wondering how   
much of it Reed remembered. Not much probably, if his own few experiences of real   
drunkenness were anything to go by.

'My interview had been that afternoon, and I had no idea what I was going to do. I   
had to go home, of course. I realised that eventually. But the more I thought about it to   
more I wanted to join Starfleet. You may have noticed that telling me 'no' makes me dig my   
heels in.' 

He looked up with a wry smile and Tucker snorted in amusement.

'Yeah, I think I've noticed that! When you say you went home, you mean to your   
parents'?'

'Initially, yes. After two or three months I managed to find a job with an engineering   
company who were willing to pick up the tab for my degree, provided I studied part-time   
while working. They weren't really looking for an armaments specialist of course, but at least   
I got my engineering degree. That took three years, and then another two for my Masters.   
By that time I was back on weapons and the firm knew they'd lose me once I qualified. They   
were exceptionally good to me, all things considered.'

'They got five years work out of you, damn good work, I'm willing to bet.'

'I suppose so,' Reed conceded. 'I know I owe them a lot. I was with them six years   
in total, at three different plants. Living away from home of course, supporting myself.

'At the end of it I felt I'd grown up, and it seemed Starfleet agreed. I reapplied in   
2146, and this time I was accepted.'

'I was a Lieutenant by then,' Tucker interjected. 'On the Warp Five Project.'

'I know, I checked.'

Again Reed's admission gave Tucker a warm glow of pleasure.

'That's how I first heard about Henry Archer's ship, and I knew then that was what I   
had to aim for. Earth's first starship was going to need a good weapon's officer, whatever the   
idealists thought. I made up my mind that weapons officer was going to be me.'

'I'm glad,' Tucker said.

'To be honest, with my talents and training it was going to be Enterprise or R&D, and   
I wanted to be out here, not stuck in a research facility on Earth.'

Reed reached for the whisky bottle, surprised to find it almost empty.

'What time is it?' he asked. 

'Nearly midnight.'

'I should go,' he said, replacing the bottle.

Tucker thought Reed sounded reluctant; certainly he made no move to rise.

'Might as well finish this.' Tucker shared the remaining bourbon between their two   
glasses. He didn't want Reed to head for his bed still thinking about the mistakes in his past.   
'Still time for one more birthday toast, so here's to a happy day, and to many more happy   
birthdays.'

They clinked glasses, and Reed smiled the rare full-wattage grin that lit up his whole   
face.

'And to sharing a drink with old friends,' he said. 'I hope I get to end all my birthdays   
as happily.'

Tucker's heart did a little dance as he basked in the glow of Reed's happiness. He   
knew it was alcohol-fuelled, the slight lack of focus in the other man's eyes was evidence of   
that even if he hadn't known how much they'd put away. He tried to hope there was more to   
it than that, but acknowledged it wasn't the time to put it to the test.

 

'Don't bring that anywhere near me!'

Travis Mayweather paused, still gripping the tray he'd placed on the table, and looked   
uncertainly from Sato to Reed and Tucker.

'Ignore her, Travis,' Reed said, pulling out a chair for the helmsman. 'She's just not   
keen on food that looks like worms at the moment.'

Mayweather laughed, understanding. 'I chose the linguine especially.'

'Why do I think you're not joking?' Sato queried rhetorically. 'If I never see food   
moving on the plate again, it'll be too soon.' She reinforced her point with a dramatic shudder   
before dipping her spoon into the dish before her. 'Vanilla ice with chocolate sauce: that's   
what I call food.' She put the spoon into her mouth, humming appreciatively as she savoured   
the dessert.

Tucker winked at the two men then said: 'I don't know, Hoshi, that sauce looks a lot   
like --'

'Don't say it!' Sato waved her spoon threateningly at Tucker. 'I've had a very bad   
day. Chocolate sauce is one of my comfort foods; I don't need you spoiling it for me. Sir.'   
The 'sir' was a definite afterthought.

Tucker laughed and sketched her a salute. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

It felt good to laugh, Tucker thought, after the harrowing events of the previous day.   
Sub-Commander T'Pol, Reed and Sato had taken a shuttlepod to investigate a ship trapped in   
the atmosphere of a gas giant. On discovering the vessel was Klingon, T'Pol had wanted to   
leave, but Reed had refused to abandon the ship's unconscious crew to their deaths. He had   
paid for his philanthropy when a Klingon who had managed to avoid the fate of her   
crewmates attacked him and stole the shuttlepod, stranding the Enterprise officers on the   
sinking ship. Waiting on Enterprise, impotent to help, had been one of Tucker's worst days   
for quite some time. In the end Archer had managed to persuade the Klingon woman Bu'kaH   
to work with them to save her ship.

'So,' Mayweather asked, tucking into his pasta, 'apart from the food, how was the   
*Somraw*?'

'Smelly, at least I'm told it was,' Reed said, 'and hot. Interesting weapons though.'

Tucker rolled his eyes, and Mayweather grinned.

'Hoshi?' he prompted.

'Nothing to add,' the linguist replied. 'Like the Lieutenant said, smelly and hot - and   
with food that moved!'

She returned to her ice cream, before looking up suddenly.

'But on a different, much happier note; have you guys heard about Saunders and   
Fielding?'

'Sally Fielding?' Tucker was surprised; the woman was one of his engineering staff.   
'What about her?'

Sato nodded. 'Yes, Sally. And Mike Saunders from astrometrics. They're an item;   
serious I hear.'

'Get away! For how long?'

'Far be it from me to spread gossip...' She paused while the men groaned theatrically.   
'... but, I believe three months now.'

'You're kidding! How come I haven't heard about it?' Tucker demanded.

'Well it's not the sort of thing you casually tell your boss, is it? "Oh, by the way, sir, I   
have a new boyfriend."

'It should be,' Reed said. As the others looked at him with varying degrees of   
disbelief, he elaborated. 'The regulations are quite specific regarding fraternisation: it's   
forbidden.'

Those regulations don't apply to missions like ours,' Tucker objected.

'Where does it say that?'

'I don't know, Malcolm,' Tucker retorted, rolling his eyes, 'but it stands to reason; you   
can't stop people hooking up when we're in space for years.'

'I know Lieutenant Reed doesn't approve of onboard relationships,' Sato said, earning   
a glare from Reed at the reminder of their embarrassing misunderstanding while she was   
trying to discover his favourite food: they both missed Tucker's quickly covered up crestfallen   
look. 'But Sally and Mike are both crewmen, so surely it's not a problem? I hope I haven't   
gotten them into trouble.'

'No worries, Hoshi,' Tucker reassured. 'I know the Cap'n will be pleased for them,   
whatever the regs say.'

Reed started to speak, but was caught by a bout of coughing; a hang-over from the   
cold that had compounded his misery on the Klingon ship. Tucker, with no more than a   
cursory glance to check Reed was all right, took advantage of the situation.

'Regulations are just guidelines; new situations call for them to be reassessed and   
amended. And you can't get a much newer situation than ours. I know what you're going to   
say, Malcolm, and I know what the regs say. But I also know the Cap'n, and I'm sure he sees   
the anti-frat regs as being long overdue for change.'

'Nevertheless,' Reed said hoarsely, 'the regulations are there for a purpose.   
Relationships between crewmembers can cause all sorts of problems, and there's the   
possibility of abuse of power to consider --' 

Tucker interrupted with a rude noise. He dropped his head for a moment to control   
his exasperation.

'Okay, I grant you, abuse of power is theoretically possible, but how many times has it   
happened?'

'Historically--'

'Historically, be damned. We're in the twenty-second century, Malcolm. How many   
times has it happened recently that you know of?'

'Just because I don't know of an incidence doesn't mean there haven't been any.'

Tucker tried another tack. 'So you're saying that if there was someone on board you   
were really stuck on you wouldn't do anything about it, because the regs forbid it?'

He stopped, suddenly aware of just how important the answer was to him. Schooling   
his features into impassivity, he looked straight at Reed waiting for his answer - knowing   
what it would be.

The brief, quickly masked flash of pain he saw in Reed's eyes made his heart leap, but   
his urge to grin was quickly quashed by the lieutenant's reply.

'That is exactly what I'm saying, yes.'

Nothing Tucker or the other two said altered Reed's opinion: regulations were   
regulations; they were there for a purpose and it was everyone's duty to adhere to them.

In the end Tucker allowed the subject to be changed, while privately determining to   
speak to Captain Archer. He'd need to talk to him about Fielding and Saunders anyway,   
after he'd checked discreetly that Sato's information was accurate; on that point he conceded   
Reed was right. But he reckoned if he could keep it casual and start up a general discussion   
about fraternisation he could sound out Archer's view of the regulations, and maybe get him   
to mention it in daily orders.

 

He got his opportunity a week later. They were in the Archer's quarters watching a   
recording of a recent water polo game. The captain's team, Stanford were winning; they'd   
each had a couple of beers and were pleasantly relaxed; things had been quiet shipboard for   
the past few days; Tucker decided the time was right and took the plunge.

He was pleased when Archer confirmed that he found the anti-fraternisation   
regulations unnecessarily restrictive in their circumstances. It wasn't quite so pleasing to learn   
that Starfleet felt the same way and were hoping to use the Enterprise crew as guinea pigs for   
a more relaxed attitude towards onboard relationships: Tucker didn't find the idea of being a   
test specimen appealing. But he pushed that to one side as the least of his problems; getting   
Reed to accept that relationships were permissible was the first hurdle to tackle. And finding   
out if the Englishman was actually interested in him that way the second. 

By the end of the evening Archer had agreed to the idea of putting something in daily   
orders, provided he could come up with the right wording, and Tucker had to be satisfied   
with that. He had no intention of letting the matter rest and planned to remind the captain of   
his promise, but events conspired against him.

 

They were orbiting the planet Coridan, and Tucker had been looking forward to   
visiting their famed shipyards, when Captain Archer dropped the bombshell that T'Pol was   
being recalled to Vulcan following the destruction by the Andorians of the monastery at   
P'Jem. Archer, wanting a last mission with T'Pol, took her to Coridan with him instead of   
Tucker, only to have their shuttlecraft attacked and brought down by a dissident faction. The   
kidnapping of the two senior officers left Tucker captaining Enterprise; a position he didn't   
really relish in spite of having trained, and originally been assigned, as first officer.

Reed was eager to take down a rescue team, and while Tucker sympathised with the   
desire, he reluctantly had to refuse. The armoury officer who, whatever his private feelings,   
very rarely argued against Captain Archer's decisions, apparently didn't feel the same   
constraints with Tucker. Fortunately the early arrival of the Ni'Var, detailed to collect T'Pol,   
averted any major disagreement, and Captain Sopek's surprisingly gung-ho attitude to the   
situation forced Tucker's hand, resulting in him and Reed mounting a two-man rescue   
mission.

All would have been well, in spite of their having been ambushed by the Andorians, if   
Sopek and his people hadn't attacked the dissident's compound at just the wrong time. 

Splitting up, Tucker went with the Andorian commander Shran to find Archer and   
T'Pol, while Reed stayed with the rest of the Andorians to provide rearguard cover. The   
fighting was briefly fierce; the Vulcans seemingly unable, or possibly just unwilling, to   
distinguish between the dissident kidnappers and the Andorians and Enterprise officers.   
Tucker, emerging into the compound yard after a final huge explosion, had a few heart-  
stopping seconds before he spotted Reed amongst those still on their feet, half hidden behind   
two of the Andorians. It was those same two Andorians who blocked Reed's aim when the   
dissident Traeg fired at Sopek, and T'Pol, who threw herself at the Vulcan captain to push   
him out of the way, was badly injured by the plasma bullet.

Much later, well into evening ship-time, when the Ni'var had finally left - without   
T'Pol - Tucker sought out Reed. 

He stood a little uncertainly in the hallway before ringing Reed's bell, aware that he   
might not be a welcome visitor: it always took the armoury officer some time to come down   
after action, and the adrenaline left him tetchy. After what seemed like a long time the door   
slid open, and Tucker found himself holding out the two bottles of beer he'd brought like a   
peace offering - or a shield. 

Reed gave him a wry smile, and stepped back to allow him to enter.

'Come in. I won't bite.'

'Pity; you might like it.' Tucker spoke without stopping to think, and when Reed   
looked at him askance, he shrugged and gave a apologetic grin. 'Sorry.'

Reed shook his head and produced a bottle opener from a drawer.

'Do you need a glass?' he asked, flipping the bottle caps expertly into his waste bin.

'Nope, thanks.'

Tucker took a long pull at the cold beer, snorting a little as the bubbles got up his nose.   
He made himself comfortable on the small sofa, and Reed settled into his desk chair. They   
sat not talking, drinking occasionally, each apparently lost in his own thoughts. Eventually   
Reed straightened in his seat and stretched.

'So, did you want something in particular?' he asked.

Tucker, a little startled, replied: 'No. Just to have a beer and chew the fat.'

'Oh.' Reed took another drink. 'I thought you did well today. As captain, I mean, as   
well as planet-side.'

'Really? Thanks; it means a lot.' 

He meant it; he valued Reed's opinion, both as a friend and professionally. And Reed   
had picked up on something Tucker hadn't even acknowledged to himself yet; his unease that   
his performance wasn't what it should have been, and his need to talk about it with someone   
he trusted.

'You did good too,' he said.

Reed rolled his eyes and made a moue of dissatisfaction.

'I let us get jumped by Shran, got into a fire-fight with the Vulcans, and let T'Pol get   
seriously injured. Not exactly a good day's work.'

Tucker, distracted, said: 'You were shooting at the Vulcans?'

'They were shooting at us,' Reed clarified.

'And it wasn't your fault T'Pol got shot. Those Andorians were blocking your view.'

'I notice you're not claiming it wasn't my fault we got ambushed,' Reed said, dryly.

'I didn't mean...oh...bastard!' he finished as he took in Reed's smirk.

He raised his bottle, and then realising it was empty, lowered it again.

'I don't have any beer, I'm afraid,' Reed said. 'I can offer you a Scotch if you like?'

'It's late; we shouldn't.'

'You're right; we shouldn't,' Reed agreed, opening his locker and taking out two   
glasses and a bottle half full of pale golden liquid. 'But where's the fun in life if we don't do   
what we shouldn't occasionally?'

Tucker laughed, accepting the proffered glass. He raised it in a toast.

'November first tomorrow. Make that today,' he amended having caught a glimpse of   
Reed's clock. 'Here's to a month of peaceful exploration - no abandoned ships; no trigger-  
happy Vulcans; no time-travelling aliens; just a quiet, uneventful four weeks. We've earned   
them.'

'You're tempting fate,' Reed warned, raising his glass and drinking the toast anyway.

'Nah. Have faith: November's going to be a good month, I can feel it in my bones.'

 

***

 

Their breath sparkled in the cold air, every exhalation a little puff of icy smoke. It felt   
as if the cold of space was seeping through the shuttlepod skin in a race to kill them before   
their air ran out.

It had been an emotional couple of days; what should have been a routine mission   
spiralling into disaster. The two of them had taken a shuttlepod to test the targeting scanners,   
but damage to the sensors and communications had forced them to return to their rendezvous   
point early, only to find what they thought was the wreckage of Enterprise spread over an   
asteroid. Their elation at finding they were mistaken, and that Enterprise was safe, was short-  
lived as they realised that their punctured oxygen tank meant they didn't have sufficient air to   
last until the ship arrived. Unable to communicate their predicament, they'd detached their   
engine and blown it up, hoping Enterprise would see the explosion and read it for the mayday   
call it was.

The meagre warmth of Reed's body alongside him was a comfort; the only comfort   
Tucker had now the bourbon was gone. He looked at the younger man; sitting hunched up,   
hands tucked into his armpits for warmth, the phase pistol lying on the floor alongside him   
where he'd dropped it after their fight. 

If they were going to die - and Tucker admitted that possibility to himself, even if he   
wasn't willing to vocalise it - if they were going to die, would he die happier if he'd told   
Reed how he felt about him? Hardly, if the result was knowing his feelings weren't returned.   
And what about Reed - what effect would a deathbed confession of love have on his last   
hours? 

They'd been quiet for some time, sitting alongside each other, wrapped in thought.

'All those girlfriends,' Tucker said, throwing caution to the wind. He didn't have to   
tell Reed, he just needed to know if it could have been possible. 'I guess you decided you're   
not gay then.'

Reed turned to look at him, his movements stiff and awkward because of the cold.   
He turned back, slumping against the bulkhead again before replying.

'No.'

In spite of having steeled himself for the possibility, Tucker felt as if he'd been   
slapped and he hitched in a breath in what was almost a sob, letting his emotions surface a   
little, knowing any change in his breathing would be hidden by his constant shivering. 

'I mean, no I never decided. I never gave it a try.'

Reed's head was bowed and Tucker had to strain to hear the words.

'Huh?' It was all he could manage.

'I left the club - that night - I left after you did. I never went back.'

'And you never...experimented again?'

'I never found anyone else I wanted to experiment with.'

It took a moment for the meaning of Reed's quiet words to penetrate Tucker's frozen   
mind.

'Anyone else?' He tried to keep his voice casual, but found it wasn't only the   
shivering making speech difficult; he had to force the words past the lump in his throat.

Reed shifted his position slightly, bringing them more firmly into contact.

'I know you like me, Trip. I think I've always known, I was just too dumb in those   
days to know what to do about it.'

'And now...?'

'And now I've left it too late.'

Reed leaned into Tucker, his words slurred, more from the effects of the all pervading   
cold than the alcohol they'd drunk, Tucker reckoned. Suddenly it was vitally important to   
understand exactly what Reed was saying.

'You mean...I thought you didn't...the fraternisation regs.'

'Bugger the fraternisation regs.' The weight against his shoulder increased as Reed   
slumped against him, and Tucker had to strain to catch his next words. 'Better still, bugger   
me.'

With difficulty Tucker eased his arm around Reed's shoulders, pulling the now   
unconscious man as close to him as he could.

 

 

By the time Tucker surfaced sufficiently to take in sickbay and his immediate   
surroundings properly the bed alongside his was empty. He lay as patiently as he could while   
Doctor Phlox ran a series of tests and checks, but apparently failed to hide his eagerness to   
get away.

'I'll try not to take it personally that everyone is so keen to escape from sickbay,' the   
Denobulan said as he ran a medical scanner over the engineer.

'Sorry, Doc.' Tucker had the grace to look abashed. 'I just want to check on   
Malcolm.'

'Lieutenant Reed should be resting in his quarters. As I expect you to be if I release   
you. In your own quarters.'

Tucker was thankful the doctor had turned away to consult his computer as he felt a   
blush steal over this cheeks.

'Neither of you has suffered any lasting damage. Now your body temperature is   
within normal parameters there's no reason to keep you here. Anything you have to say to   
Mr. Reed will keep until morning, I'm sure.'

'What time is it?' Tucker asked, realising he had no idea. 'Should I be asking what   
day?'

'Twenty-two thirty hours, and it's still November 11. You do remember waking   
earlier?'

'Yeah, sure,' Tucker hastened to assure him, concerned not to give the doctor reason to   
detain him any longer. 'Malcolm was still here then, right?'

'Hmmm.'

Tucker couldn't tell if that was a good hmmm or bad, but hoping it was the former he   
sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, taking pains to conceal the resulting   
headrush.

'You might want to avoid any sudden movements until you've had something to eat,'   
Phlox said, still with his back to the biobed.

Experience, Tucker wondered? Or maybe something showed on the screen Phlox was   
still studying.

'A light meal and a good night's sleep, Commander. Get in touch immediately if you   
suffer any adverse effects of your ordeal. Apart from a hangover, of course,' the doctor   
added dryly. 'You can catch up with Mr Reed over breakfast.'

 

It was the late hour rather than doctor's orders that convinced Tucker not to disturb   
Reed. He hesitated a long moment outside the lieutenant's quarters before admitting to   
himself that likely neither of them was in any condition for the conversation he wanted to   
have.

He headed to the mess hall, where the duty steward rustled him up a toasted cheese   
sandwich. Possibly not the most sensible meal to have immediately before retiring to bed, but   
it was comfort food - just what he needed - and he convinced himself that the warm milk he   
collected from the resequencer would counter any adverse effects from the cheese.

In the event, the meal didn't disturb his sleep, and he woke surprisingly refreshed -   
and ravenously hungry.

Dressing in jeans and a t-shirt he headed for the mess hall. Once again he hesitated in   
front of Reed's door; this time eventually deciding to ring the bell. There was no reply.   
Either Reed was still asleep, or more likely he had already gone in search of breakfast.

Entering the mess hall, Tucker saw he was right: Reed, in jeans and a baggy sweater,   
was at what had become 'their' table near the window. It looked as if he shared Tucker's   
hunger, if the heaped plate in front of him was any indication. Certainly it was more than his   
usual pancakes or poached eggs on toast.

Tucker filled a plate with bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs and toast, and grabbed   
a glass of milk - wryly acknowledging that he was still comfort eating.

'Hey, you're up,' he said, sliding into the seat opposite the armoury officer while   
mentally berating himself for the banality of his opening.

'Evidently.'

Reed's arched eyebrow and dry comment immediately relaxed Tucker, and he huffed   
his own amusement.

'Yeah. Not at my brightest,' he conceded. 'How about you?' 

'I've been brighter.'

Tucker laughed again. 'You know what I mean. How are you feeling?'

'Glad Enterprise arrived in time and found us alive. Found both of us alive.'

Tucker looked up from his plate, alerted by the sudden flatness of Reed's tone, and   
worried by what he intuited behind the other man's carefully controlled faÃ§ade. He searched   
for a way to acknowledge how his actions on the shuttlepod - trying to sacrifice himself to   
give Reed extra air - had hurt the other man, while not saying anything to crack that fragile   
control. He settled for: 'I'm sorry. I know that was stupid.' knowing Reed would understand   
what he was talking about. Reed shifted in his chair, but before he could say anything,   
Tucker added, 'More than stupid; cruel.'

Reed gave a small nod and a sigh.

I couldn't have...wouldn't have wanted...' He stopped, looking away as the words   
caught in his throat.

'It's all right, Malcolm.' Tucker reached across the space between them, and without   
thinking took Reed's hand in a supportive grasp. 'We're here, that's what matters. We're   
safe.'

Reed at first returned the grip, then, appearing to realise what he was doing, he broke   
the contact, and pushed abruptly to his feet.

'I have to go. I'm needed in...' He stopped, looking around as if searching for   
inspiration, a slightly panicked expression on his face. 'Sickbay. Phlox. I need...he wants...'   
he stammered, picking up his tray and stepping away from the table.

'Malcolm!' 

Reed turned back, his eyes meeting Tucker's briefly, before settling on a focus   
somewhere over the engineer's left shoulder.

'We need to talk.' Tucker stayed seated; he didn't want to spook the other man any   
more than he already had. 'Can I see you later?'

'Later?'

'Eleven o'clock, your quarters?' he suggested.

'My quarters?'

'Or somewhere else, if you prefer.'

'No, no, you're right, we need to talk.' Reed swallowed and straightened his stance,   
seemingly pulling himself together. 'My quarters, eleven-hundred hours will be fine,   
Commander.'

With that unpromising reversion to formality he turned and walked away, leaving   
Tucker in little doubt as to the course Reed had decided their talk would take. 

 

Eleven o'clock exactly Tucker was once again hesitating outside the armoury officer's   
door. He knew Reed was inside; having agreed to the meeting, it wasn't in his nature to back   
out of it. He also knew that this was going to be his one and only chance to tell Reed how he   
felt, and to get the other man to admit he felt the same, which after their experience in the   
shuttlepod, Tucker was pretty sure was the case. If he let Reed retreat behind his barricades   
of rank and formality, there'd be no getting him out again. 

Tucker knew what he had to do; hit Reed hard now, while he was vulnerable, while   
his barriers were still down. It was a dirty trick, and it didn't sit well with Tucker, but it was   
for the best in the long run. He had to believe that. Muttering, 'He'll thank me for it one day,'   
under his breath he finally reached up and pressed the door chime.

The door slid open immediately, revealing Reed now wearing his uniform. 

'Come in, Commander.'

'Trip.' Tucker eyed the uniform as he passed Reed. 'It went well then?' At Reed's   
blank look he clarified: 'Your meeting with Phlox. He cleared you for duty?'

'Oh. No, I just thought...' 

Reed trailed off, and Tucker thought: yeah, you just thought you felt safer in uniform;   
the first line of defence in your barricade.

Tucker crossed the small room, and without waiting for an invitation, sat in the desk   
chair, leaving Reed to choose between the lower small sofa and his bed. After hesitating for   
a moment Reed perched in the edge of his bed, clearly ill at ease.

When it became obvious that Reed wasn't going to start the conversation, Tucker   
spoke up.

'What you said on the shuttlepod--' he started, only to have Reed jump in.

'I'm sorry about that. All my talking, recording messages I mean. I realise now how   
distracting it must have been for you.'

Mentally Tucker rolled his eyes, while trying to keep his reaction from showing on his   
face.

'You telling me that's all you remember? Because I've seen you drunker than we were,   
and you remembered every damn word everyone said'

'That was different. The cold, and lack of oxygen,' Reed protested. 

Tucker raised his eyebrows a little, looking at Reed, but remained silent. There was a   
tense pause, maybe a full half minute, then suddenly Reed seemed to deflate; his military   
stiffness drained away and he slouched forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, his eyes   
firmly on the carpet between his feet.

'I don't know what you want me to say, Trip.'

He looked and sounded lost, and it took all of Tucker's strength of purpose not to   
close the gap between them and take him in his arms.

'I want you to remember what you said on the shuttlepod, to admit you remember it.'

'Why? What good will it do?'

This time Reed's quiet despair was too much for Tucker, and he moved to sit   
alongside him on the bed; close, but not touching.

'Malcolm.' He waited until the Englishman turn his head to face him, noting with   
concern the unusual pallor and the dark circles under his eyes; forgetting that, after their all   
too recent ordeal, he probably didn't look much better himself. 'You said you knew I liked   
you, and I kinda got the impression you liked me back. Am I right?'

'But--'

'No buts, Malcolm, just, am I right?'

'Yes.' 

Only one word, and so quietly spoken he had to strain to hear it, but it made Tucker's   
heart leap. The defeat in Reed's voice and manner though was something that needed to be   
tackled.

'Then that's all that matters.'

'It can't be. Regulations--'

'Don't say it!' Tucker ordered. 'You know the regulations can't apply to a mission like   
ours. I know the Cap'n believes that, heck, he told me even Starfleet believe it.' He stopped   
himself just in time from blurting out the part about using the Enterprise crew as guinea pigs -   
not something he could see going down well with Reed.

'But...'

Reed stopped, almost as if he expected to be interrupted. Tucker allowed himself a   
small smile.

'But what?'

'You like the Malcolm you met in San Francisco. I'm not that person any more.'

Now Tucker did reach out and take hold of one of Reed's hands.

'Malcolm, how long have we known each other?'

'Twelve years.' 

'No,' Tucker contradicted. 'We met twelve years ago and we knew each other, what,   
nine months? And a couple of them we weren't speaking. We've been serving together on   
Enterprise since April; same time, just about. Yes, I liked you in San Fran, but the person I   
like now, the person I want to be with now, isn't the boy I met twelve years ago. It's   
Lieutenant Reed; the irritating, opinionated, argumentative sonofabitch I've been serving with   
for the last seven months.'

For a long minute they sat silently, Reed studying Tucker's face as if trying to read   
something there. Then he pulled his hand free and got to his feet, restlessly pacing over to the   
desk chair and sitting heavily.

'I know you don't think the regulations matter--'

'Jesus, Malcolm!' Tucker exploded. 'I don't remember you being so god-damned keen   
on regulations back at Caltech.'

'No, and look where it got me,' Reed snapped back. 'Thrown out.' He bounced to his   
feet again, radiating nervous energy and tension. 'I'm a different person now.'

'We're both different people now. Who's to say what would have happened if we'd   
hooked up then? You'd have left at the end of the year anyway.'

'Maybe that would have been for the best. I'd've gone home and you'd have forgotten   
me,' Reed muttered.

He prowled to the door and back, clearly needing movement, action of some kind, but   
hampered by the lack of space.

Feeling at a disadvantage on the bed, Tucker rose, and Reed almost collided with him,   
coming to an enforced halt well within Tucker's personal space. They stood, not quite   
touching, Reed breathing heavily, his gaze focussed somewhere on the front of Tucker's shirt.

Tucker held his breath; frightened of doing or saying the wrong thing, he did nothing   
at all. He could feel the heat of Reed's breath on his chest, and see the pulse throbbing at his   
temple. It felt as though there was a force, an attraction like an electric charge between them,   
that prevented them moving. 

Reed's breath hitched in an almost-sob. Tucker said, 'Malcolm?' quietly, gently, and   
as if the word was a signal, Reed stepped forward and into Tucker's arms.

Reed had his head buried against Tucker's shoulder, and a tight grip around his waist.   
Wrapping his own arms around Reed's shoulders, Tucker said again, 'Malcolm?'

'I'm sorry,' came the muffled reply. 'I didn't mean to do this.'

Tucker shook his head, aware that Reed couldn't see it. 

'What are you sorry about?' he asked, genuinely puzzled.

'This,' Reed said, briefly squeezing Tucker in a tighter hug. 'I tried so hard not to give   
in, to...to resist your charms.'

Tucker huffed in amusement, taking advantage of being unseen to roll his eyes.

'I'm glad my charms proved irresistible in the end.'

'You don't understand.' Reed lifted his head and pulled back a little, but made no   
attempt to free himself from Tucker's arms. 'I know you think it isn't important, but it goes   
against everything I've been taught.'

'I do know it's important, Malcolm; I just don't think it's insurmountable.'

Reed turned his head away a little and nibbled his lip. Tucker took a gentle hold of   
Reed's chin and turned the man's head until their gazes locked. There was a small red mark   
on Reed's lower lip where he had bitten it, and without stopping to think what he was doing,   
Tucker pulled Reed a little close, and kissed him.

He felt Reed's sharp intake of breath, and the instant rigidity of his slender frame;   
then, as suddenly as it had come, the tension melted away; one of Reed's hands found its   
way to the nape of Tucker's neck and Reed returned the kiss with a passion that equalled   
Tucker's own.

When eventually they were forced to come up for air they stood, foreheads touching,   
both panting.

'That was unfair.' Reed spoke without looking up.

'All's fair in love and war, Malcolm.'

There was a pause, and then Reed straightened, looking at Tucker with sudden   
realisation.

'You planned this,' he accused.

Tucker shrugged, with a self-conscious grin. 'Had to get you to admit how you felt   
somehow. And it will be all right, you know.'

He was almost sorry he'd added that rider, as Reed's face fell and his tension   
returned.

'I mean it, Malcolm.' He gave the man a little shake to be sure he had his attention.

'I know, and I believe you. It's just, all my life there've been rules I've been expected   
to live up to and one that was forever being drummed into me is, no fraternisation between   
ranks. I had a friend in primary school, my best friend I suppose, but because his mother was   
a non-commissioned officer I wasn't allowed to go to his house. It wasn't such a problem in   
boarding school because the other boys were all officers' children, but even then my parents   
vetted my friends to make sure they were 'suitable'. It's not easy changing the habit of a   
lifetime.'

'You just have to take it one step at a time.'

'I suppose so.' Reed sounded doubtful.

'Consider this the first step,' Tucker suggested, and he pulled the other man into his   
arms again and kissed him. He was once more rewarded by an enthusiastic response as Reed   
eagerly parted his lips to allow Tucker access, his own tongue exploring the engineer's mouth   
in return. 

'We've done that step twice,' Reed complained coyly when they parted. 'I think I'm   
ready to try step two.'

'Hmm.' Tucker pretended doubt. 'It doesn't do to rush these things. Maybe we   
should try step one again, with you taking the lead, just to be sure you've got it.'

Reed rolled his eyes, and reached out to take hold of the front of Tucker's t-shirt in   
both hands. 'Damned American perfectionist,' he muttered, pulling Tucker yet again into a   
lip-crushing clinch.

This time, as they kissed, Reed pulled up Tucker's shirt, sliding his hands over the   
engineer's strong back.

'Mmm, precocious, I like that in a student,' Tucker managed to say. Then he was   
distracted as one of Reed's hands moved to explore his chest, sliding upwards over his ribs   
before reaching one of his already hardened nipples. He moaned into the kiss as nimble   
fingers stroked and tweaked the sensitive flesh.

Finally Tucker grasped Reed's hands, stopping their exploration. He pulled back a   
little, casting a critical eye over the armoury officer.

'You know, I reckon you've got too many clothes on to try the next step.'

'And here's me thinking getting me out of the clothes was the next step.'

Tucker laughed, pulling down the zip on Reed's jumpsuit. He unfastened the buttons   
at the neck of the black uniform shirt, pushing the fabric apart to slide his had in and caress   
Reed's neck.

'I've always loved your neck,' he said. 'Not as much as your cheekbones, of course,'   
he added, planting a quick kiss of each of Reed's cheeks. 

The hand on Reed's neck slid sideways, over his shoulder, and Tucker became aware   
of Reed fidgeting, trying to shrug out of the top of his jumpsuit.

'Impatient,' he said, helping Reed extricate his arms from the sleeves.

'My middle name,' Reed confirmed with a smile.

He made to take the black shirt off, but Tucker stopped him.

'I like to unwrap my own present, Malcolm.'

'Me too,' Reed agreed. 'I'm just evening things up.'

Tucker gave an amused snort, and, taking hold of the hem of the black shirt, pulled it   
off over Reed's head, leaving the man clad in his blue singlet.

'There, now we're even,' Tucker said, two fingers tracing the hard nubs of Reed's   
nipples through the cloth; he smiled as Reed arched into the touch.

'Except, since you pulled the zip all the way down, if I were to wriggle my hips, my   
trousers would fall down,' Reed said, suiting action to words.

The jumpsuit slid down over his ass, but no further.

With a grin, Tucker said, 'Looks like it's caught on something in front here. Wonder   
what it can be?'

He carefully eased the jumpsuit over Reed's erection, which was straining against the   
fabric of his blue underpants, and allowed it to pool around the man's ankles.

'Nice,' Tucker said, staring appreciatively, and Reed's cock twitched in response.

'Your turn,' Reed said, taking a step towards Tucker.

He'd forgotten about the uniform at his feet, and he stumbled, only to be caught by   
Tucker, who held him steady as he divested himself of boots and jumpsuit.

'Here,' Tucker said, guiding Reed towards the bunk. 'Let's take this somewhere more   
comfortable.'

Tucker sat on the bed, expecting Reed to join him, surprised when the man knelt on   
the floor instead. He relaxed with an understanding smile as his legs were pushed apart and   
Reed reached to unfasten the button at the waist of his jeans.

Tucker watched as Reed slid the fly zip down, unable to hold back a groan as his rigid   
cock was moved carefully out of the way. Without being told, he leaned back on his elbows,   
lifting his hips. Reed pulled the jeans down and off and then turned his attention to Tucker's   
underwear.

'Lovely. My favourite.' Reed flashed Tucker a grin before ducking his head and   
taking a long lick at the pineapple emblazoned on the front of the engineer's non-regulation   
boxers.

Tucker groaned again, and, balanced on one elbow, used his other hand to try and free   
his erection, only to have the hand taken in a strong grip.

'My job, I think,' Reed said.

Taking hold of the fabric in both hands he lifted it out and over Tucker's cock, and   
then pulled down sharply, dragging the cloth over Tucker's ass. The cock, released, sprang   
proud. Reed gave a huff of appreciation and the warm exhalation drew another moan from   
the engineer. When Reed took hold of his cock Tucker nearly lost it; letting his head fall back,   
eyes closed, he gave yet another long groan. He was brought back to earth by Reed's voice.

'I've never done this before, Trip,' he said diffidently. 'You'll have to tell me if I do   
something wrong.'

'You're doing great, Malcolm,' Tucker gasped. 'Just go with what you like yourself.'

He wondered at the wisdom of that advice when he caught the sly glint in Reed's   
eyes, then all coherent thought deserted him as Reed took his balls in one hand, and firmly   
gripped the base of his penis with the other.

Tucker watched through half-closed eyes as Reed's tongue circled the head of his   
penis, slowly, languorously, as if he was savouring his favourite ice cream cone. With one   
final twirl of his tongue, Reed closed his mouth over Tucker's cockhead, paused for a   
moment, and then in one swoop slid down the whole length of the saliva-slicked shaft. Up   
again, just far enough for his lip-shielded teeth to pop over the ridge at the top, and then   
another firm downward plunge. Reed set up a rhythm; two or three strokes, then a break to   
breath, swirling his tongue around the tip as he did so. 

Tucker again let his head drop back and his eyes close, concentrating on the sensation   
of Reed's mouth on his cock. For someone who'd never done this before, the man was   
amazing; enthusiastic, skilled, and with an amazingly agile tongue. 

Reed changed his tactics, and the sudden removal of mouth from cock had Tucker   
whimpering in disappointment. The whimpers changed to a deep sigh of satisfaction as   
Reed's tongue explored his navel, before laying a hot, wet trail up his chest.

Tucker, lifting his head to watch, realised that Reed was still wearing his blues, and   
grabbing hold of the singlet with one hand he tugged at it until the man stopped what he was   
doing long enough to shrug it off. Tucker threw the garment over his head, and Reed took   
the opportunity to bury his face in the engineer's armpit, making small appreciative noises as   
he licked and nibbled at the sensitive flesh. When Reed's hand found one of his nipples   
Tucker began to make appreciative noises of his own.

Reed was lying along Tucker's body, and his cloth covered erection was like a bar of   
heat against Tucker's belly. Reed slipped a hand behind Tucker's head and pulled him into a   
kiss. Reed's mouth was hot and dry, and tasted of Tucker.

'Fuck me, Malcolm?' he heard himself ask.

Reed pulled back just far enough to look at him properly, breathing heavily. 'You   
sure?'

'Yes. We'll need lube.'

Reed nodded, sliding off Tucker to open the drawer in his nightstand. He held out a   
tube for Tucker's approval, smiling self-consciously. 

'Great. Come here.'

Tucker stood, pulling Reed to his feet. He kissed the man thoroughly, then knelt and   
removed his briefs. It was his first sight of Reed's naked penis, and he sat back on his heels   
for a moment to admire the view, then impulsively he leaned forward and planted a kiss at its   
base.

Reed's breath hitched. 'God, Trip, I'll come if you do that again.'

Tucker grinned up at him, and, keen not to over-stimulate the other man, moved away,   
saying prosaically, 'Fingers first, until I'm loose enough. Lube on fingers and cock.'

He climbed on the bed, arranging himself on hands and knees, peering at Reed over   
one shoulder to say, 'Easiest position for a beginner.'

Reed chuckled and settled himself on the bed. Tucker heard the top of the tube pop   
open, and a moment later felt a slick finger slide between his cheeks and push carefully but   
firmly against his anus. 

'That's it, babe,' he said, and he relaxed his arms, letting his shoulders sink lower.

Reed was a quick learner, and soon had three fingers inside Tucker's ass, probing and   
exploring.

Tucker wriggled, and Reed asked, 'Ready?'

'Yeah, go for it.'

The fingers withdrew, and there was more fumbling with the lube, then Reed's cock   
was pressing at his hole; cold lube and hot flesh. Steadying himself with one hand on the   
small of Tucker's back, Reed pressed forwards steadily until the head of his penis slipped past   
the ring of muscle. Tucker sighed noisily.

'You okay?' Reed asked.

'Yeah. You?'

Yes. It feels...different. But good!'

Tucker's snort of amusement finished in a startled yelp as Reed pinched him hard on   
the buttock.

'That's for laughing at me.'

In reply Tucker pushed backwards, impaling himself further on Reed's cock, and Reed   
gasped.

'I'm not going to last long,' he warned.

'Just do it,' Tucker said, trying to make it not sound like an order. And failing.

'Yes, sir,' was the amused reply, and as he spoke Reed thrust all the way in.

Now it was Tucker's turn to gasp; and he did so again as Reed's lube-slicked hand   
reached around to take his cock in a strong grasp, pumping it firmly to the rhythm he was   
setting behind.

True to his word, Reed only managed a dozen or so strokes before, with a wordless   
cry, he climaxed; and the convulsive tightening of his grip on Tucker's cock sent him over the   
edge just seconds later.

Tucker let his legs slide out from under him as he collapsed onto the mattress. He   
heard Red grunt, and felt the man's cock slide out of his ass. They lay, Reed on top of   
Tucker, for a minute, both panting heavily as they recovered from their exertions. The   
armoury officer was slightly built, but even so Tucker was glad when, with a little shuffle,   
Reed slid himself onto the bed, between Tucker and the wall.

Tucker slung an arm around Reed's waist, and turned to look at him.

'You all right,' he asked, although the happy grin on Reed's face told him the answer   
anyway.

'Never better,' Reed said, snuggling up a bit closer. 'Knackered though.'

'Yeah,' Tucker agreed. 'Here.' He dragged at the coverlet, squirming around until he   
managed to free it. He offered a corner of it to Reed, and shrugging at the man's   
disapproving expression said, 'We made a mess of it anyway,' as he cleaned himself off with   
another section of the cloth. Reed, shaking his head, followed suit, sighing as, once they had   
finished, Tucker dropped the coverlet on the floor.

With yet more squirming around, Tucker managed to loosen a blanket sufficiently to   
pull it over the two of them. Taking Reed in his arms, Tucker spooned behind him.

'Go the sleep,' he said.

'It's midday!' 

The objection might have carried more weight if Reed hadn't immediately followed it   
with a jaw-cracking yawn. Tucker laughed and snuggled in a bit tighter, revelling at having   
the Englishman in his arms, and in his bed. No, in Malcolm's bed, he thought, as his eyes   
closed and he fell asleep.

Movement eventually woke him, and he cracked open one eye to see Reed propped   
on one arm, inspecting the room.

'You better not be thinking of tidying up,' he muttered, trying to cuddle up again.

'The place is a mess. What if the captain knocked?'

'Finding your uniform on the floor would be the least of his surprises,' Tucker said,   
stifling a laugh at the expression on Reed's face when he caught Tucker's point.

'Come back here,' he said, tugging on Reed's arm. 'What woke you anyway?'

Right on cue, Reed's stomach rumbled noisily. Tucker bit his lip, trying not to laugh,   
then he caught Reed's eye and the two of them fell in a heap, giggling uncontrollably. 

Recovering first, Tucker swung his feet out of bed and got up.

'Come on,' he said, holding out a hand. 'Shower, and then lunch.'

'Mmm, a shower sounds fun,' Reed said lasciviously.

'Just a shower,' Tucker said, firmly. 'You left most of your breakfast, remember. And   
you need your strength.' He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Reed laughed again.

A short while later showered - just showered - and dressed, Reed in civvies again,   
they were ready to head out to the mess hall. 

Reed went to open the door, turning questioningly as Tucker lifted a hand to stop   
him.

Tucker stepped close to Reed, embracing him and kissing him gently on the lips. He   
pulled back a little, to look Reed in the eye.

'It will be okay, you know. The fraternisation thing, I mean.'

Oh, I know,' Reed said. 'It's justâ€¦it'll take me a little time to get used to it.'

'I can wait,' Tucker said. 'You're worth it.'

Reed gave him a calculating look, and Tucker was suddenly forcefully reminded of   
their first meeting, and the teenage Malcolm's spiky defensiveness when he suspected he was   
being made fun of. Emotion threatened to overcome him as he considered just how lucky   
they were to have found each other again, and unconsciously he tightened his grip on Reed;   
reluctant to let go of what had been so hard won.

'Trip?' 

Reed's voice was worried, and Tucker hastened to reassure him.

'Nothing, just memories. I'm okay. We're okay,' he said. 

And as he leaned in to kiss Reed again, he knew it was true.

 

\--fin--


End file.
